“Why haven’t the Libyans intercepted them?” Clive asked.
“They may not be able to see the EP-3E,” Kurt answered.
“That close to the water the surface of the ocean is probably obscuring the fighters’ radar picture. It’s not like our Aegis or the F-14 Tomcat’s radar.”
“Admiral,” the lieutenant supervising the crew manning the strike consoles interrupted, “Sixtyone says its Harriers are reporting multiple air bogeys at their two o’clock on a course of zero one two at altitude eight thousand.”
“Ask them what the location is!” ordered Admiral Cameron.
“That doesn’t tell me much.”
“Sixtyone, this is Sixth Fleet,” broadcast over a different set of speakers from the ones that connected Sixth Fleet to the EP-3E.
“What is the location of the bogeys and total number being reflected?”
“Sixth Fleet, pilots are reporting minimum of eight bogeys located approximately one hundred miles north of Tripoli and one hundred miles south-southeast of their position.”
The admiral interrupted.
“What is the weapons load-out on those Harriers?”
“Four AIM-9 Sidewinders and two Sparrows, sir. Plus, an internal twenty-five-millimeter cannon.”
“Good. Tell Sixtyone that he has authority to release the Harriers to intercept bogeys on their own radar guidance.
Weapons tight at this time. If the Libyan aircraft pass the thirty-fifth parallel they are to shoot them down.”
“Aye, aye, sir.” The lieutenant passed the orders.
“Admiral, I am patching the circuit controlling the Harriers to the number three speaker. We can hear CTF Sixtyone’s side of the conversation, but the Harriers are out of range.”
“Very well, carry on.”
The EP-3E speaker blared.
“Sixth Fleet, Ranger Two Niner; they have passed us. I repeat, they have passed us.
We are passing the thirty-fifth parallel southeast of Malta.
We’re one hundred thirty miles from Catania and Sigonella.”
“What do you mean, they have passed you?” asked the Admiral. He wiped his forehead again.
“They are already past the thirty-fifth parallel,” Clive added.
The duty officer relayed the admiral’s question to the EP-3E.
“We see contrails between breaks in the cloud cover and those contrails are ahead of us. I estimate their course as three three zero. Sensors show they have descended to four thousand feet.”
The admiral’s eyebrows bunched together as he thought about it. Several seconds passed. This didn’t make sense.
Why would Libyan fighters be this far north? At this rate they were going to fly right into-He turned to the staff duty officer.
“Chart! Where’s the chart?” He tried to rise, but sat back down, his breath coming rapidly. Cameron pointed to the surface plotting table in front of him. Dr. Jacobs took a step toward the admiral.
Cameron waved him away.
“Put it here,” Clive ordered.
The chart of the central Mediterranean was quickly taped down across the Plexiglas-covered metal table.
“Quick, Commander Bailey, draw a line from Benghazi on a bearing of three three zero.”
“Yes, sir,” the SDO responded. He grabbed a compass ruler. He overlaid the Libyan city of Benghazi and drew a pencil along the edge of the ruler on three three zero degrees.
The line ran through the central Mediterranean and through the Sicilian city of Catania.
“Jesus Christ,” the admiral mumbled.
“Now do one from Tripoli on a bearing of zero one zero.”
He did. The line ran east of Malta and slightly north of Catania — directly through the United States Naval Air Station at Sigonella.
The chief returned.
“Admiral, General Leblanc—” Admiral Cameron held his hand up.
“Not now,” he said.
Clive waved the chief away.
“Clive, call CTF Sixty-seven and tell them to prepare Sigonella Air Station for possible Libyan air attack. Tell Commodore Ellison the Harriers have weapons free authority and they are to engage the Libyans. Splash the bandits.
Commander, contact Italian Air Defense and warn them.”
Cameron slumped slightly on the stool. Clive reached out and took the admiral’s elbow as Cameron pushed himself back up. Cameron looked up at his chief of staff and nodded. Then, the two waited while the staff duty officer relayed the orders.
“We need a quick calculation. Commander Bailey. How long at five hundred knots from Benghazi to Sigonella?”
His voice was so low that Clive barely heard it. “This is Ranger Two Niner calling. The Benghazi formations have rendezvoused with the Tripoli bunch! They are on course three five five, altitude four zero. They ain’t turning back. Admiral! They ain’t turning back and if they keep going like they are, they are going to be feet dry over Sicily in minutes.”
The commander grabbed a calculator and did a quick series of computations.
“One hour fifteen minutes. Admiral.”
“Thirty minutes until they cross the shoreline,” the admiral commented dryly.
“Admiral, I have the Italian duty officer at Pratica di Man Air Base on the line. What do you want to tell him?”
Pratica di Mari was the air operations center for the Italian Air Force located south of Rome.
In the background continuous intelligence reports flowed from the EP-3E as the reconnaissance aircraft tracked the enemy formations.
“Tell them, we believe Sigonella will be attacked within the next thirty minutes by Libyan aircraft. Then, as soon as possible, I want to know their intentions.”
He turned to his chief of staff.
“Clive, what do we have at Sigonella that we can respond with?”
“Nothing, Admiral. Not a goddamn thing! It’s a logistics hub. The Air Force’s Air Mobility Command has at least two KC-135s and a KC-130 down there fully loaded with aviation fuel for today’s refueling missions. ASCOMED, the Navy’s transportation and passenger service, has two cargo C-130s on the apron, VQ-2 has two EP-3E reconnaissance aircraft, and there are four Patron P-3C maritime patrol planes. There are also several smaller aircraft, ranging from a couple of C-12 V. I.P transports to a couple of short-range helicopters for local operations. Plus, other aircraft are always transiting, so there could be more. We ordered the alert KC-130 aloft five minutes ago, so if the crew can be airborne within the next few minutes maybe …” dive’s voice faded, leaving his thought unsaid.
“That’s eleven big boys,” the admiral said.
“A lot of fuel-laden aircraft sitting on that small apron … like Mitchell Field when the Japanese hit it.” He merely mumbled the last thought aloud.
“Can only be one EP-3E and one KC-135 there,” Commander Bailey added.
“Ranger Two Niner staged out of Sigonella and the KC-135 for the Rivet Joint mission is on station in the West Med.” Rivet Joint was the Air Force RC-135 reconnaissance aircraft. The big difference between Rivet Joint and the EP-3E was that Rivet Joint had better sensors and was capable of air-to-air refueling.
Admiral Gordon Cameron spun around to the duty officer and pointed.
“Commander Bailey, call Sigonella and tell them to launch every aircraft they can and tell them that a Libyan air attack is inbound!”
“The Nassau is on the other side of the Strait of Sicily.
She has launched the remainder of her Marine Corps Harriers,” Clive added.
Admiral Cameron looked hard at Clive, weighing the next course of action. A curt nod of the admiral’s head showed he had reached a decision.
“Okay, tell Sixtyone to divert the second formation of Harriers toward Sigonella and tell him that I believe Libyan fighters are on their way to attack the base.” Then, calmer, he added, “And tell him what happened to the Gearing. I want those Marines more pissed off than Marines normally are. Then call Italian Air Defense and tell them that four United States Marine Corps Harriers are inbound from the west and not to mistake them for Libyan fighters!”