Admiral Badr’s navigation room had not immediately understood the extent of the GPS blackout. Lt. Ashtari Mohammed had observed that they were receiving nothing from the satellites on their screens, but he was looking for a technical fault at first. It was not until Ahmed Sabah read out the signal from General Ravi that Ashtari fully realized the implications of his blank screen. There was no GPS, and there was not going to be any. The U.S. Air Force’s 50th Space Wing, out in Colorado, had placed a four-minute transmission delay on their formal announcement:
No GPS signal before 0100 Saturday October 10.
That had been Admiral Morgan’s order, on the grounds that four minutes would be too long for the Barracuda to leave a mast up, and it might just run on for several more miles before they realized the GPS was down permanently.
General Ravi had dealt with that, however, and now Ben Badr ordered an immediate course change…“COME RIGHT ONE HUNDRED NINETY DEGREES…STEER COURSE THREE-ZERO-ZERO…MAKE YOUR SPEED FIVE…DEPTH 600.”
Captain Mohtaj, at the helm of the Barracuda, now making course west-nor’west, handed the ship over to the CPO, Chief Ali Zahedi, at 0100. There was a 90-mile deepwater run to the shelter of the eastern shore of Gomera, and there was no problem staying “below the layer,” 600 feet under the surface, since the Atlantic all around the Canary Islands was nearly two miles deep.
But the sudden course change had unnerved the crew. Even though just a few of the senior command were aware that they were surrounded by U.S. warships, and their long-range launch plan had been scuppered, everyone quickly knew there was something amiss.
They were headed into the jaws of the United States Navy, which was not a great place to be. But General Rashood had made no mention of aborting the mission. Rather he had urged them forwards, as the soldiers of Allah, to strike the fateful blow against the Great Satan.
Admiral Badr called a briefing meeting in his small private office. In attendance were Captain Mohtaj, Comdr. Abbas Shafii, the nuclear specialist, Comdr. Hamidi Abdolrahim, the chief nuclear engineer, Lieutenant Ashtari, the navigator, and Ahmed Sabah.
“Gentlemen,” said Ben Badr. “I am no longer able to say with any certainty that any of us will survive this mission. However, my orders are that it must be completed, and it will be completed.”
He poured tea for them all from a silver pot into the little glass cups with their silver holders. And he paused carefully, to allow his words to sink in. It was the first time in two underwater missions that anyone had ever suggested martyrdom.
But the anticipation of death is not so very far from the minds of any Islamic freedom fighter, and the fear of imminent death was less among these men than it might have been among those of another religious persuasion. Nonetheless, Ben Badr was surrounded by grave faces, and he was aware of the need to hold their attention.
“In many ways,” he said, “nothing very much has altered. Of course it would have been preferable to fire our missiles from two or three hundred miles out, but as we now know, that will no longer be possible. However, our target has not moved, and we are perfectly capable of creeping in, to a 25-mile range, taking our visual bearings, and launching our Scimitar missiles straight at the volcano.
“The only change in our attack pattern is a need to be nearer the target, but the computerized missile will still obey our command. We just have to aim it straight and true. A nuclear missile doesn’t need to be dead accurate, as long as it hits within a couple of hundred yards of the target. The blast will do the rest.”
“But there are two changes, Admiral,” said Ahmed Sabah. “One is the length of time we shall be on the surface, the other is our departure.”
“Of course,” said Ben Badr. “We will most certainly be detected by the American warships, but I believe we will have a few precious minutes to get deep after the two launches. And no matter how good they are, it remains extremely difficult to locate and attack a quiet submarine that is running very slow, hundreds of feet below the surface.”
“How deep, sir?” asked Commander Shafii.
“One thousand feet, minimum. If they are using depth charges we will go to twelve hundred. It’s blind chance, and terrible bad luck to get hit at that depth. Especially if we have a 5-or 10-minute start on them. And we’ll try to make our missile launch at least two miles from the nearest warship.”
“Will they launch missiles at us the moment they catch a sight of it?” asked Ahmed.
“I’m hoping they’ll concentrate their energies on trying to shoot down the Scimitar,” replied Admiral Badr. “They may get a couple of ASROC away, but even then we still have a few minutes to get deep. They’d be very lucky to hit us, especially if they were hell-bent on shooting down the Scimitar at the same time.”
“I think we’ve got a serious chance of escape,” said Ahmed Sabah.
“Yes,” replied the Hamas Admiral. “An excellent chance.”
“Sir, how about an attack from the air? I mean, torpedoes launched from helicopters?” said Commander Abdolrahim.
“That, Hamidi, is a game of cat-and-mouse. We will put up a mast for our fix. Then go deep again and stay there, before we run up to our ranged launch point, take our bearings, and fire, twice. The helicopter may be close, but it is unlikely to be close enough in my view. And again, all U.S. energies will be concentrated on the Scimitars. We still have a great chance, believe me. And we have one other huge advantage…Allah goes with us, not with the Infidels.”
And with that, Ben Badr called the entire ship’s company to prayer, using, expertly, the words of the muezzins that echoed from a thousand Middle Eastern mosques four times a day:
Each man, with the exception of the helmsman and the sonar chief, made his declaration of intent and enacted the twelve positions of prayer, making two prostrations in which their foreheads touched the steel of the deck.
The second salam signified “Peace and Mercy to You,” and Admiral Badr, aware of the men’s fear of the next few hours, began by quoting from the Koran…“Never think those slain in the way of God are dead. They are alive and well provided for by their Lord.”
And he reminded them that the Prophet Mohammed, close to despair, once cried out to God…“O Lord, I make my complaint upon thee of my helplessness and my insignificance before mankind. But thou art the Lord of the poor and the feeble. And thou art my Lord. Into whose hands wilt thou abandon me?”
And Ben Badr, summoning all of the emotion of the 1,400-year-old worldwide brotherhood of Muslims, quoted again from the Koran, from God…“Remember me. I shall remember you! Thank me. Do not be ungrateful to me. You who believe, seek help through patience and prayer.”
Each member of the crew, now standing, palms outstretched to God, now wiped them across his face to symbolize the receipt of God’s blessing.