“Roger, move the carrier. I want it in the Mediterranean along with its escorts ASAP. Okay? Tell the Air Force to provide that counterbalance. They’ve been arguing for years they can be as effective as a carrier; the Persian Gulf is a great place for them to prove it.”
“Yes, sir, Mr. President,” he replied, his eyebrows arching as he considered the consequences. He turned to his military aide and whispered the necessary instructions to redeploy the Roosevelt from Fifth Fleet to Sixth Fleet.
“Roger, how long will it take the Persian Gulf carrier to arrive in the Med?” the president asked.
Roger looked at his military aide, a surface warfare Navy captain, who responded for the secretary. “Mr. President, four days at full speed to the Suez Canal, allow one-day transit time. I estimate five days for the carrier battle group to enter the Med and another two to two and a half days transit to the Algiers area.”
“Thanks, Captain,” the president replied. “It’s not off Algiers I want that carrier. Roger, I want to bomb Libya. I want to eliminate her entire Air Force and Navy. I want to send a message to Libya, and any other nation that contemplates attacking the United States, a very visible lesson. Six Tomahawks cannot balance what the Libyans did to us.”
“Yes, sir, Mr. President.” Behind the secretary of defense the military aide took copious notes. “We’ll use the Air Force—”
“I would hope so, Roger,” the president interrupted. “But the Navy took the brunt of the Libyan attack. I want the Navy to lead the action. They have a score to settle and let’s give them the opportunity to settle it.”
Franco nodded. “Navy Avenges Gearing.” He could see the sympathetic headlines now. The polls would swing even further to the right. The administration was going to look good in the eyes of the public. He caught himself as he nearly laughed out loud.
“And,” the president continued, “I want the world to know we are ramping up for retribution. I want the Libyans to sit in their box and watch the American might build up. I want them sweating, worrying, wondering about when we will strike. Emotions are at fever pitch throughout the United States. I was watching CNN earlier. Did any of you see the over ten thousand American demonstrators surrounding the United Nations building? Do you know what that says? It’s a hundred degrees in New York and we actually have New Yorkers-New Yorkers, I’m telling you — leaving their air-conditioned offices, turning off their television sets, and showing their anger over something that has happened to their fellow Americans over half a world away. New Yorkers! Can you believe that?” He paused and took a sip of water. “The average American doesn’t even watch the evening national news, much less understand what is happening on the international scene. Today, we have the entire country more mobilized, more together than since Desert Storm. For that alone, I will move forces into the area to show American resolve.” He paused, then added, “Don’t be shocked. I know I’m viewed as a dove in world politics, but the American people demand action and I want to show them that the Crawford administration is taking steps to protect American lives and interests. That unprovoked attacks on Americans will receive appropriate responses. We are going into the Med and we’re going in force. No one is going to keep us out. Let no nation doubt the willpower of America to use its military force. American maritime might is far from dead.” He suddenly realized that he had found the key to the legacy for his administration. This crisis would carry his name into the history books.
“Let’s move on. Bob, have we located President Alneuf yet? Do we know what happened to him?”
The secretary of state shook his head.
“Mr. President,” General Stanhope, the director of the National Security Agency, said from the other end of the table. “We have a report from the Air Force RC-135 Rivet Joint that flew a West Mediterrean mission yesterday about an Algerian Mig attacking a fishing trawler east of Algiers. The trawler subsequently beached itself. No final analysis on the attack yet, but a large-scale search of the area is being conducted by Islamic forces. Considering the fighting, and the chaotic situation in Algeria, the number of troops involved in the search convinces us that it is out of proportion for a fishing crew. We believe President Hawaii Alneuf may have been aboard the ishing trawler and is somewhere east of Algiers, either fleeing for the border, or gone to ground.”
The door burst open and the bespectacled former bookkeeper who was now the director of Central Intelligence ran into the room amidst a flurry of stammering apologies. Papers fluttered from the binder he carried under his right arm. He snatched for them, knocking his bow tie askew.
“Farbros,” growled the president. “If you’re late again to one of my meetings, just continue home. I think my time is more valuable than yours.”
Farbros bent over behind his chair to pick up the papers. Pens and notes fell out of his shirt pocket. He made a mad grab for them as more tumbled out.
“Yes, sir, Mr. President! Yes, sir. There was something I wanted to make sure was accurate before I came. It’s just that—” Farbros stammered.
“Farbros, next time just come. I’ll decide whether a piece of information is important enough for you to go back for it. Sit down and catch up.”
Farbros Digby-Jones pulled the heavy chair out, unbuttoned his blue business suit coat, and sat down. His small frame had a childlike appearance in the massive leather chair. He licked his thumb and flipped through his papers as he attempted to return them to proper order. His thick coffee colored hair lay jumbled on his head.
“Mr. President, General Eaglefield has additional information on our preparations to respond to the Libyan attack,” Roger Maddock offered.
The president nodded to the chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, who sat reluctantly, quietly to the left of the secretary of defense.
“Mr. President,” General Jeff Eaglefield began. “This is a preliminary status, and as we firm up the timetables, we will have a better picture on response time and the forces we can bring into play.
“The Air Force is pre staging five C-5s to Fort Bragg to transport the 82nd Airborne. We are waiting for Italian permission to move the first elements of the 82nd Airborne to Sicily. We expect to receive that permission today. The Seabees estimate they’ll have Sigonella Airfield operational within the next twenty-four hours. The Army will deploy a Patriot air-defense system to protect themselves and provide base protection against further air attacks.
“The light mechanized infantry at Fort Steward is mobilizing, and the Navy is working out transportation arrangements to move them.
Depending on the scope of response and the concept of operations, we can move an entire division by air in four days.”
“What can we do with them in Italy?”
“Mr. President, they increase your options, ranging from invading Libya to conducting an opposed evacuation of Algiers. Either way, the forces will be forward-deployed and in position to respond. C-141s and additional C-5s will back-fill the five C-5s at Bragg to embark the remainder of the 82nd Airborne. The 101st Airborne is on ninety-hour alert to follow, if so ordered.”
The president rested his left hand on his chin with his index finger tapping his cheek. “Damn,” he said. “This must have been what Roosevelt felt like in ‘42.”
“Yes, sir,” General Eaglefield replied, thinking, ‘“41,” wondering about the president’s grasp of history and worrying over the commander in chief’s lack of military experience.
“Thank you, General. Roger, come see me later.”
President Crawford peered over his bifocals at the DCI. “Farbros, quit wiggling in your seat. I know you want to tell me what caused you to be late. So go ahead.”