Hangar Deck, USS Bataan (LHD-5), about 40 nm./73 km. Southwest of Bushehr, 0000 Hours, December 28th, 2006
It was game time for Operation Chilly Dog, and Colonel Mike Newman had never felt more alive. All through his career, he had wanted to lead Marines on an important combat mission, and now this skinny kid from Wisconsin was about to do just that. It was almost enough to keep him from losing his mid-rats right here in Bataan's hangar bay. The worst part of the whole thing was that he would not get more than a few yards/meters from this very point. Given the complexity of Chilly Dog, he would fight this battle from a console in the Landing Force Operations Center (LFOC) on the ship's 02 Level. For the first time in his career, he would not lead from the front, and he felt guilty. It made no sense, of course, because unlike John Howard at Pegasus Bridge in 1944 and Dan Shomron at Entebbe in 1976, the only way that this mission could be coordinated in space and time was with the electronic tools of cyberspace.
Around the hangar bay, over five-hundred Marines were checking weapons and equipment. The sickly yellow-orange sodium lights cast a surrealistic glow over the scene. As he walked from group to group, encouraging them to muted shouts of "Oooh-rah!" and "Semper Fi, sir!" he watched Marines apply desert camouflage paint to their war faces. Over near the port elevator bay stood the most important group of all, the media/observer team. There had been much debate about bringing them along, but in the end, the need to justify the action to the world community had won out. Dr. Kennelly from Oak Ridge was talking with Hans Ulrich from the IAEA. He smiled at the thought that these two bookish men had given them the first "tickle" on Bushehr. Both were looking decidedly uncomfortable in desert "cammies." Wendy Kwan and her CNN crew were mingling with the DoD Combat Camera team that would document the event for the world. She had been offered the opportunity as a reward for fingering Professor Kim Ha Soon at the automobile plant. Now she and her crew would get the rest of the story. Colonel Newman grimly smiled, and hoped that she would live to collect the Emmy that would inevitably be hers — if she survived.
Suddenly, Captain Fred Rainbow, commander of Bataan, ordered Battle Stations with an old-style bugle call, and then followed it up with the Marine Band's classic recording of The Marines Hymn. The troops on the hangar bay immediately struck a brace, and sang along at the top of their lungs. It was almost too much for Colonel Newman, who wondered how many of the young men and women in this bay he would have to write letters for tomorrow.
He went up to the LFOC on the 02 Level and sat down at his battle console, motionless until a thermal mug of coffee laced with cocoa thumped down in front of him. He looked up to see Lieutenant j.g. Jeff Harris, who had been transferred to his intelligence staff following his discovery of the two defensive platforms near Bushehr. "Showtime, sir," was the comment from the young officer, who showed a pensive smile. His errand to his colonel done, he sat at the console beside Newman's, where he would monitor the sensor feeds from the UAVs that had just launched from the flight deck of Trenton (LPD-14). The call to flight quarters brought Newman back to reality, and he said a silent prayer as he watched his Marines troop aboard the helicopters over the deck television monitor. Ten minutes later, they lifted off into the inky night.
Defense Platform #2,10 nm/18.3 km West of Bushehr, Iran, 0200 Hours, December 28th, 2006
The duty officer of the platform stood over a radar operator monitoring the formation of ships to the south. There had been some launching and landing of helicopters and Harrier jump jets, but this was entirely normal for the enemy, who loved to fly at night, like bats. The sensors of the heavily armed platform detected nothing unusual, and he picked up the telephone to report in to the security center at Bushehr. The fiber-optic data link to the center at the Bushehr Airport ensured that communications to the mainland were not subject to the vulnerability of radio transmission which could be jammed or intercepted by an enemy. As he finished his hourly check-in call, he moved over to the teapot to pour himself a cup of Persian brew. It would never touch his lips.
At precisely 0201 hours, an AV-8B Plus Harrier II from VMA-231 fired a salvo of four AGM-88 High Speed Anti-Radiation Missiles (HARMs). A few hundred feet above the platform, their warheads detonated almost simultaneously, spraying thousands of armor-piercing tungsten cubes which shredded exposed antennas and weapons canisters. Within a minute of the missile strike, a raider craft carrying a four-man SEAL team cut the armored fiber-optic cable back to the mainland and flashed a signal to an MV-22B Osprey. By 0204, over twenty Marines from the 22nd MEU (SOC)'s Maritime Special Purpose Force (MSPF) had fast-roped down to the deck and cleared out the seven survivors of the missile attack. The dazed prisoners were taken aboard the Osprey and sent back to the Bataan. At the same time, an identical force was taking out the other platform some miles to the south. The outer layer of Bushehr's defenses had just been eliminated, and the Iranians did not even know it. In a few more minutes, they would not care.
Road Causeway between the Town of Bushehr and the Power Plant, Iran, 0205 Hours, December 28th, 2006
The Marine Force Reconnaissance platoon had been in place for two days reporting back over a secure satellite link to Colonel Newman in the LFOC. Now they had just cut the phone lines to the power plant and prepared the causeway for demolition, should anyone try and come down the road. They were armed with Javelin anti-tank missiles to maul anyone who tried. This platoon was one of two covering access routes from the town of Bushehr, and the sergeants leading them prayed that the extraction plan worked as planned. The alternative was a very long walk to Pakistan.
Bushehr Airport, Bushehr, Iran, 0205 Hours, December 28th, 2006
The loss of signals from the data links was noticed immediately by Security Control at Bushehr airport. Like military personnel everywhere, the duty section called the maintenance section and poured another cup of tea to stay awake. Overhead, four bat-shaped B-2A Spirit stealth bombers from the 509th Wing at Whitman AFB, Missouri, silently took position for what had to be a perfect strike. They had staged out of Anderson AFB on Guam, refueling from K.C-10A Extenders based at Diego Garcia. At 2007 hours, sixteen GBU-29 Joint Direct Attack Munitions (JDAMs) precision-guided bombs dropped from each bomber's weapons bays. Each bomb was guided by a GPS receiver to fall within five meters of a pre-surveyed aim point. The most important targets got a pair of bombs, the rest received a single JDAM. The first weapons struck the hardened concrete of the security center as planned, slicing through overheads with the penetrating power of 2,000-lb/909.1-kg warheads. Within thirty seconds, the command center, post office, telephone exchange, runways, hardened aircraft shelters full of MiG-29s, and other targets around Bushehr had been neutralized.
Two minutes behind the B-2s came eight B-1B Lancers from the 7th Wing at Dyess AFB, Texas, also launched from Anderson AFB and refueled from KC-10As at Diego Garcia. Their targets were two battalions of troops in barracks adjacent to Bushehr airport. Each unloaded twelve AGM-154 Joint Standoff Weapons (JSOWs) from their weapons bays, well outside Iranian airspace. Following a two-minute gliding flight, the ninety-six JSOWs, guided by onboard GPS receivers, unloaded their payloads of BLU-97/B Combined Effects Munitions (CEMs). They blanketed over a hundred acres of troop billeting and vehicle-parking areas with thousands of CEMs, and the effects were horrific. The two minutes since the bombs from the B-2 strike had given the troops time to throw on their boots, grab their weapons, and rush outside to be shredded into hamburger by exploding cluster munitions. After a few minutes, the Bushehr garrison could no longer defend itself, much less the power plant to the south.