As of two hours ago the American Embassy had over two hundred refugees, of various nationalities, jammed into its small courtyard — a virtual United Nations of citizens from the sane world.”
“They have electricity and water?” Duncan asked.
Commander Mulligan, the staff intelligence officer, stepped out of the shadows into the faint light. Duncan wished he’d quit doing that.
“Yes, sir. Captain,” Commander Mulligan answered.
“They have the basic sanitary facilities, but trucks filled with non Algerian citizens are continuing to arrive. They started arriving around midnight and continued nonstop until about three o’clock. It’s tapered off some, but has not stopped.
The embassy began redistributing the refugees to their respective embassies. This should reduce the impact on the limited American facilities. They started”—he looked at his Rolex watch—“about thirty minutes ago, around first light.”
“Thank you. Commander Mulligan,” the commodore said, shoving his bifocals back on his nose. Every time he wrinkled his forehead or squinted his eyes they slid down.
Ellison coughed and then pointed to the chart in front of them.
“Gentlemen, this is where we are and this is where we are going,” the commodore emphasized, using his pencil to mark the two locations.
“As soon as we reestablish comms with the Gearing,” he added, his voice rising. Then he shouted across Combat, “Lieutenant, you got comms with the Gearing yet?”
“No, sir. We’re still trying,” the CICWO replied, rolling his eyes at the nearby junior CICWO.
She rolled her eyes in reply.
“As much as he likes to talk and buttonhole people, you’d think he’d be more patient,” she said softly to the lieutenant.
“Damn. As soon as we contact her I want those Harriers recovered. You hear? I want them recovered!” Ellison yelled, and then turned to the three men around the table.
“Then we’ll turn our noses toward Algeria and, our butts to Libya, sail through the Strait of Sicily. With luck, sometime late tomorrow night we’ll be on station just over the horizon from Algiers. Bulldog, how are you doing with your portion of the operations plan?”
Colonel Stewart’s thin, razor-sharp frame made him look as if he were perpetually at attention.
“Sir, my concept of operation is completed. When directed, the United States Marines will board two CH-53 helicopters while Captain James, with his SEALs, will follow on the CH-46. We’re going to have four Cobra attack helicopters with us. We will low-level into Algiers via the harbor route, thereby avoiding major municipal areas. The troop helicopters will loiter at the harbor to effect a four-minute insertion separation.
Two Cobras will remain with them while the other two escort the troop helos to the embassy. I estimate four minutes from the harbor to the American Embassy. Marines inside the compound have cleared a landing site. The first CH-53 will land, disembark its company, rapidly load a contingent of evacuees, and depart. Time on ground will be four minutes. Commodore, four minutes will be the standard time for every operation in this evolution. Using the same time element helps reduce confusion and makes it easier for pilots and ground personnel to synchronize their actions.”
The commodore nodded.
“I’m impressed. Colonel.”
“By the time the first CH-53 is airborne out of the embassy, the second 53 will be in the landing pattern. Same evolution for it; third helo will be Captain James and his SEALs on the CH-46. We’ll take evacuees out on it also.
If the plan goes smoothly we’ll have three choppers full of evacuees airborne and heading out of Algiers in twelve minutes.”
“Thanks, Colonel. I would like to see the written version on my desk following breakup of this meeting.”
“Duncan, your guys ready?”
“Yes, sir. Commodore. We have two teams; four SEALs to a team. Each team will be equipped with one sniper, one MG-60 per team, and one communicator. Every SEAL will also be outfitted for close-in combat support. I will command one team and Lieutenant Commander Pettigrew the other. Lieutenant Sunney will remain on board with the backup team on thirty-minute alert. Colonel Stewart and I have discussed our role. We will support the Marines where perimeter integrity appears vulnerable and take on any Lone Rangers. The snipers are available if we need them.”
The hatch to CIC opened and a sandy-haired sailor in sharp-creased dungarees entered, his eyes searching the operations space.
“Shut the door!” a voice shouted at him.
He did.
Seeing Commander Mulligan, the sailor walked directly to him. The intelligence officer took several steps away to meet the sailor, whereupon the two held a close, whispered conversation inaudible to the three men at the table. Duncan and the colonel tried to eavesdrop with no success as the commodore continued his diatribe.
Commander Mulligan dismissed the sailor and rejoined the three captains.
“Commodore,” Commander Mulligan interrupted, “things have really deteriorated in Algiers.”
“What do you mean?”
“The American Embassy tried to move the citizens to their respective embassies, as I briefed earlier. The truck traveled about fifty yards outside the compound before the Algerians stopped it. They ordered it back, at gunpoint, to the embassy. When the truck started to turn around, an Italian citizen jumped off and started running. Don’t know why, but the Italian Embassy is in sight of the American Embassy so he may have been trying to make it there. Instead they shot him before he ran twenty feet.”
“They shot him?”
“Yes, sir, but it gets worse.”
“Not for the Italian it doesn’t.”
“At that time he was still alive, sir.”
“At that time?”
“Yes, sir. Three Marines at the gate ran to the truck, believing it was under attack, and, needless to say, a small firefight broke out, with two of the Marines being wounded and several of the insurgents being killed. One of the insurgents, as he ran for cover, put a bullet into the head of the Italian when he passed him. A Marine shot and killed the Algerian who killed the Italian. Marine security force personnel poured out and surrounded the truck and escorted it back inside the compound. No more shooting has occurred.
It appears we are at a standoff right now. The embassy reports more Algerian troops arriving and taking position around the American Embassy. The ambassador says she believes they are preparing to attack the embassy.”
The commodore spun on the CICWO.
“Shit! Lieutenant, have you gotten the Gearing yet?”
“No, sir. Still no joy.”
“I don’t have to tell you that if they attack our embassy, it’s a whole new ball game. President Crawford ain’t Carter,” Ellison said, then yelled at the CICWO, “Have you tried INMARSAT?”
“No, sir. Commodore. You said we were never to use it.”
“Well, I think you can use it for this, don’t you!” He lowered his voice and looked at Duncan.
“I hate using INMARSAT.
It costs an arm and a leg from our OPTAR to pay for it and it’s insecure as hell. Except for the security aspects I wish military comms were as effective as their commercial counterparts.” The CICWO reached for the INMARSAT handset located beside the captain’s chair.
At that moment a secure voice speaker above the plot table interrupted the commodore.
“Sixtyone, this is Air Force Romeo Charlie One Three Five on track western Mediterranean. Interrogative my comms The CICWO replaced the INMARSAT handset and picked up a nearby microphone.
“Air Force Romeo Charlie One Three Five, this is Sixtyone.
I read you fivers, go ahead.”