“Go ahead, General.”
“Late yesterday, our analysts discovered the geopositional readings coming from four GPS satellites that provide most of the navigational data for the Mediterranean are incorrect.”
“Incorrect?”
“Yes, sir. It seems that anyone using GPS in the Mediterranean will discover they are five nautical miles further south than what their displays show.”
“Are you saying the USS Gearing could have been inside Libyan territorial waters?” Bob Gilfort asked, leaning forward to look around Franco Donelli at General Stanhope.
“Yes, sir. I guess what I am saying is that we could have been as close as ten nautical miles, if the USS Gearing was using GPS for its navigation.”
“Mr. President, I recommend we keep that information within this room.
I submit we remain firm in that the USS Gearing was outside of Libyan territorial waters … that’s our story and that should be our Bible.
Deny, deny, deny,” Roger Maddock added, slamming his hand down on the table. “Screw the Libyans.”
Crawford ignored the Secdef. “General Stanhope, as director of the National Security Agency, you must have some reason or facts to support this. Why do you think the satellite readings were off? Was there a malfunction or something?”
“Mr. President, we are investigating, but we cannot discount tampering, either by a cyber attack against the satellites or technical malfunction in the GPS software. We are passing this information to the Joint Chiefs of Staff. They will notify European Command. By this afternoon, our forces will be using conventional navigational techniques until the GPS error is corrected.”
“Thank you, General. Roger, keep me notified.” The president turned to the secretary of state. “Bob, before we start discussions on Algeria, I need State Department to develop a position paper in the event we have to admit that the Gearing was in Libyan waters. But make sure our position reflects that I don’t care if the Gearing was skirting the beaches from a hundred yards out; they attacked our warship without provocation and then launched a dastardly, unforgivable attack against our bases in Italy and Crete.
“Now, quickly to Algeria, do we have any contact with the new government?”
“No, sir. Not at this time. Attempts to contact government offices result in either constant ringing of the phones with no answer, or a continuous busy signal. And for obvious reasons, we can’t send someone around from the embassy. They refuse to allow anyone to leave. We have told the insurgents surrounding our embassy that we want to discuss the situation with their authorities. They promised to relay the message, but no reply has been received.
“We have several rambling press releases from the rebel government.
None of which make much sense. One warns the United States that the Mediterranean is a North African sea, that we are intruders who are not welcome, and that the new Algerian government intends to keep us from ever returning again. A radio broadcast later in the day said basically the same thing: that Satanic American forces had been wiped from the face of the Mediterranean and that our Navy would never enter it again. The Mediterranean is closed to America.”
“No one is going to tell America where its Naval forces can go or not go!” “Mr. President,” Roger Maddock said. “We still have forces in the Med. In fact, the Nassau battle group has recovered its Harriers from Sigonella and is heading toward its station off Algiers. We expect them in range of the Algerian capital within the next twelve hours.
Then, they’ll be in position to commence evacuation of the embassy.
From Norfolk and Little Creek we are preparing another amphibious task force around the amphibious carrier Kearsarge and the Ponce — an older, but quite capable LPD. They will embark a full Marine air-ground task force, called a MAGTF, with tanks, aircraft, and two battalion landing teams, totaling about two thousand troops on the two ships. The Nassau has a smaller MAGTF embarked, centered around a smaller team of approximately one thousand Marines. That being said, the Nassau is capable of bringing out the refugees, if we have to go ahead with the evacuation prior to the arrival of the Kearsarge amphibious task force. The Kearsarge and Ponce will arrive at Morehead City tomorrow to start embarking the Marines. It will take three days to completely embark the Marines and their equipment. We expect them to enter the Med a few days behind the Stennis battle group.” “Roger,” Bob Gilfort said. “I don’t think we can wait for their arrival. The ambassador demands that we pull them out now!”
“Bob, I understand that,” Maddock replied, an edge of impatience in his voice. “The Nassau is capable of doing the job under emergency circumstances. If I remember correctly, the ambassador cried wolf about sending in the Marines last year during the food riots.”
“I think that’s uncalled for, Roger,” Gilfort replied sharply. “She provided an honest assessment from her viewpoint at the time.”
“Let’s hope she’s reasoning more calmly this time,” Mad dock replied.
Gilfort opened his mouth to reply, but Maddock continued, cutting him off. “Sixth Fleet is on board the submarine Albany, enroute to the Nassau to personally take charge of the evacuation, but if we go in and the Algerians heavily oppose the operation, we lack the air power to counter it!”
“But we’ll have the Marines,” President Crawford added.
“Yes, sir, Mr. President. We have the Marines, but even Marines are not invincible. If we send them in, they will be taking on an entire country by themselves. Our problem is we have abandoned the Mediterranean—”
“That’s not exactly accurate!” Bob Gilfort interrupted.
“We have sent the wrong message to an area known for its instability.
Today, we are seeing the results!” Roger Maddock finished, ignoring the secretary of state’s outburst. Then he looked at Gilfort. “It’s just what I told you two years ago, Bob.”
“You’re overreacting, Roger,” Bob Gilfort said, “We are not the world’s policeman! Let them sort out their own mess.”
“If we’re not the world’s policeman, then why in the hell—”
“Roger,” President Crawford interrupted, patting the air in front of the two men to stop the confrontation. “Do we have sufficient forces in the Mediterranean to evacuate the embassy if necessary?”
Maddock took a deep breath. “Yes, sir, Mr. President. But Defense Intelligence Agency estimates, if we put the Marines in the Nassau amphibious task force ashore, they will be outnumbered anywhere from ten to twenty to one.”
“Could the Marines win against such odds?”
“Mr. President, they would fight until either the Algerians retreated or every one of those brave American souls were dead. And there would be a lot of brave American souls dead. We need the Stennis battle group. With the carrier, we can project our power as far inland as we need; without it, we’re limited to coastal operations.”
“The newspapers would murder the administration, Mr. President,” Franco Donelli added.
Silence greeted the secretary of defense’s prognosis, with the exception of Bob Gilfort, who muttered, “Still overreacting, I think.”
President Crawford cleared his throat. “Okay, Roger, I have the picture. The last thing I want are more dead Americans. Here’s what I want you to do,” the President said. “I want the Stennis deployment speeded up.” He waved his hand at Mad dock as Roger opened his mouth to speak. “No, hear me out. I don’t know how you’re going to speed up the deployment, that’s your problem. Just do it. How about our carrier in the Persian Gulf?”
“Mr. President, we have moved the USS Roosevelt from the Persian Gulf into the Gulf of Oman. I am reluctant to move it further because of the lack of counterbalance to the Iranian Navy.”