“Now with this picture, I just want to reverify that my mission is to take the terrorists off the plane and bring them back to the U.S.”
After I finished, I got a “wait out.”
About five minutes later, a response came—I thought from Secretary Weinberger, but it could have been Admiral Crowe, since I had never heard his voice over SATCOM: “You are the ranking American on the scene, and you do what you think is right.”
I “rogered” the message. Which was exactly what I wanted to hear. It gave me the latitude to do what I thought would turn out best.
By this time it was about 4:00 A.M. We had been on the ground now for approximately two hours, trying to sort this mess out. During that time, I had occasionally overheard discussions between Italian officers, including some disagreements. There were apparently questions about which “magistrates” (judges) ought to have jurisdiction over the terrorists. The Italian justice system was complex, and there’d be plenty of magistrates involved, all with differing responsibilities. This could conceivably further complicate a conclusion that would be in the best interest of the United States.
After listening to all this for a while, and doing some thinking on my own, I’d come to my main conclusion: No matter how complex the Italian justice system was, and how many magistrates would be involved, we had to somehow find a way to fix responsibility for prosecuting the terrorists on the shoulders of the Italian government. We needed to find a way to hold their feet to the fire inescapably.
A little later, a way to do that came to me.
About that time, my counterpart, the Italian three-star, and I moved the short distance to the base commander’s office, which was where he had to make his calls anyhow, to find a more suitable place to discuss the issues at hand.
When we got there, I made a proposal that I thought would be in the best interest of both governments. “The first thing we’ve got to do,” I told him, “is un-mingle the troops, to minimize the possibility of a shooting incident between the United States and Italy that could leave a lot of dead or wounded Italians lying on this tarmac when the sun comes up—a situation you and 1 must avoid.
“Once we have done that, I will take the Force 777 guards off the plane, disarm them, and take them to a secure holding area. Then we will take the rest of the air crew off, leaving only the terrorists and the two unidentified individuals on the plane.
“Once that’s done, 1 will reduce our security force to a minimum visible presence around the plane.
“Come daylight, you or whoever you designate can enter the plane and take the remainder off one at a time. Then, you, along with a two-man detail that I provide, will take them to whatever location the district attorney designates for charging and lock up; and we will assist in verification/identification.” What I had in mind was to fly in some of the former hostages from Egypt and put the terrorists before a lineup, but I didn’t spring this on the lieutenant general until later.
The lieutenant general seemed to like that idea and, with a nod of his head, asked for a few minutes to discuss the proposal with his higher-ups. He picked up the phone, and then about fifteen minutes later told me that the proposal was agreeable.
Soon after that, he ordered the Italian troops surrounding the aircraft to withdraw, and judging from their reaction, they were relieved to do so. But it was good to see that they left with no animosity.
MEANWILLE, the White House was calling Craxi again: The President felt strongly about bringing the terrorists to justice, the Italian was told.
The Italian prime minister claimed that he personally had no problem giving the hijackers up to the Americans; but this was an Italian legal matter, and Italian courts had jurisdiction.
DURING the next hour, we disarmed the 777 Force guards, removed them from the plane, and took them to a holding place where they could get some food and rest (under armed escort). Next, the power was shut down on the plane, and the crew was removed and reunited with the captain elsewhere on the base.
This left only the four terrorists and the two unidentified individuals on the plane.
At this point, in order to lower the anxiety level of the Italians, we reduced our guard force around the plane to six visible SEALs, but a reaction force remained nearby, if needed.
At daybreak, Colonel Annicchiarici, accompanied by several armed guards and a paddy wagon, showed up with the Egyptian “ambassador.” The colonel and the ambassador boarded the plane, and after maybe two hours of negotiations, they persuaded the four hijackers to surrender. They were loaded in the paddy wagon and placed in a military jail at the air base. Later, they were taken downtown and arraigned before the local Italian district attorney.
The two remaining unidentified men, however, were by this time claiming diplomatic immunity as PLO envoys, and refused to leave the plane. The tough looking one was carrying an Iraqi diplomatic passport with a name on it that 1 forget, but we suspected—and could not yet positively prove—that he was the terrorist mastermind, Abu Abbas. The other one, the redhead, turned out to be the political officer of the Cairo PLO office—a functionary (as we later found out) by the name of Hassan.
If Abbas actually turned out to be on the plane, and we could bring him to trial, we would have achieved a far more significant victory in the war against terrorism than just grabbing the four hijackers. He was the mastermind and organizer; they were nothing but hit men.
Unfortunately, we had not yet identified him, and more important, he was on Italian soil. Prime Minister Craxi wanted no part in bringing Abbas to justice. The Italian prime minister stonewalled. His intention all along was to get Abbas out of Italy as fast as an aircraft could be found to carry him and a safe haven could be found to take him in (this last came from a source inside the Italian government).
Meanwhile, positively confirming whether or not the tough-looking Palestinian was Abbas became our priority. We did this using photos that the Agency sent us over SATCOM—a fairly recent technology that our people had developed.
Before we’d had this technology, photographs and additional maps had had to be flown to us at night out of Washington (or wherever) by special courier flight. Even after engineers in the corporate electronics industry had told us time and again that it couldn’t be done earlier that year, a young army captain had designed the circuitry and all the necessary systems for a device that would let us send pictures and drawings over SATCOM. Captain “Rich” was at the time assigned to the our Intelligence Directorate, and he was one of the smartest and hardest-working young officers I have ever known.
After the captain23 designed the system, which we called “PIRATE,” industry built us two of them. We gave one to the Agency, and we had the other one with us.
By means of PIRATE, the Agency sent us the photographs of Palestinian leaders. And these permitted us to positively identify our guy as Abu Abbas.
NOW that the terrorists were in Italian custody, I decided it was a good time to reduce our signature. It was daylight now and the press had begun to show up outside the fence with their long telephoto lenses. For that reason, I told Captain Bob and his SEALs that they were released to head back to home base.
They launched at 0900 hours, feeling good about themselves and their accomplishments in the war against terrorism.
Meanwhile, 1 stayed behind with my assault CP and a few other essential personnel in order to see this thing through to a “satisfactory” ending.
ABBAS AND HASSAN
During the standoff between American and Italian troops, Italian officials had contacted the Egyptian Ambassador to Rome, Ychia Rifaat, stating that Italy intended to take custody of the four hijackers and prosecute them, and that the two PLO representatives would have to leave the plane and furnish testimony.
In response to this, the Egyptian government agreed to the handing over of the four hijackers to Italian judicial authorities. But the disposition of the two PLO emissaries was another thing again. The Palestinians, the Egyptians announced, w
ere covered by diplomatic immunity; they had been brought to Sigonella against their will, and they had no intention of getting off the plane. In fact, the Egyptian government argued, the plane itself was on a special governmental mission, and benefited from diplomatic immunity under international law. As long as the two Palestinians remained aboard, they were on Egyptian territory, and the Egyptian government declared it was prepared to “defend, if necessary, the inviolability of the plane with arms.”
Finally, at about 0900 on Friday, October 11, Ambassador Rifaat delivered a formal diplomatic note, in which the Egyptian government sought a clarification of the legal status of the Egypt Air plane and its occupants, and requested that the plane be allowed to leave Sigonella immediately, along with all its remaining passengers.
About 10:00 that same morning, a small brown executive jet landed and parked at the end of the runway near the Egypt Air 737. Two well-dressed middle-age men deplaned and approached the 737. One claimed to be from Rome representing the Italian government. The other, probably an Arab, never spoke. After their credentials were confirmed by my Italian three-star counterpart (he told me they were both from the Italian government), we agreed to let them board the plane to talk to the two Palestinians (no one was yet admitting that they were in fact Abbas and Hassan), and they remained there for about an hour before returning to their plane and departing.
I didn’t actually buy the story they gave me. Their behavior made me suspicious that they were somehow going to try to smuggle Abu Abbas and Hassan out of Sigonella, and perhaps out of Italy. This would confirm what I’d already learned from my Italian three-star counterpart, who’d dropped pretty clear indications from time to time that the Italian government was trying to find an easy, no-pain way out of the dilemma they felt they were in.
I called Vice Admiral Moreau, explained my concerns, and asked if he could find a Navy T-39, which is a small, executive-type jet, from somewhere nearby and send it to me so we could follow them, should my fears turn out to be accurate.
I had already selected four of my best people for my “chase team”—Lieutenant Colonel “Dick,” Major “Johnny,” Command Sergeant Major “Rick,” and one of our best SATCOM radio operators—when at about 2:00 P.M., a pair of Navy lieutenants showed up saying that their squadron, VR 24, located on Sigonella, had been tapped for the mission, and they were my pilots, reporting for instructions.
“Where’s your plane?”
“In the hangar, sir,” they answered, “at the end of the taxiway.”
I joined the two pilots up with the four on my chase team. “What I want you to do,” I told all six of them, “is to get the jet ready to launch on very short notice, but keep it hidden. Then I want you to sit in it and wait for my instructions. If they try to smuggle Abbas out of country by plane, you’re to launch immediately, tuck right up under its tail, and follow it to wherever it goes. Your mission is not to recapture Abbas, but just to report to me. I’ll tell you what to do.”
MEANWHILE, I had continued my internal debate about the best way to pin responsibility on the Italians for bringing the terrorists to trial so that they could not wriggle out of it and strict justice would be done. The moment had come, I felt, to recommend to my Italian three-star counterpart that we fly the American hostages in from Cairo (they were then at the American Embassy). Once they were here, we’d set up a lineup under the close watch of whatever magistrates had responsibility, and let the hostages identify the terrorists.
“This should be possible,” he told me. “And perhaps it’s a good idea.”
“Then would you contact the local district attorney and set this up sometime later in the evening?” I asked. “And I’ll work on getting an airplane to bring the hostages here.”
About an hour later, he reported that the district attorney had agreed to my proposal, but would like a two-hour notice to arrange the lineup in the presence of the magistrates.
I then called Vice Admiral Moreau to ask for a C-141 to bring the American hostages to Sigonella. I also pointed out to him how important it was for the hostages to positively identify the terrorists before the magistrates who would have ultimate responsibility for their trials.
“That’s a good idea,” he said. “I’ll work it and get back to you.”
J UST before dusk, the executive jet returned, taxied to the end of the runway, turned around, and stopped, but kept its engines running and its landing lights on. The two men I’d met before got off the plane, approached the 737, and again asked permission to board. They stayed on board for half an hour, then took off again.
All of this strengthened my suspicion that someone was setting up the machinery to get Abu Abbas and his partner out of the country.
Shortly after dark, the Italian base commander, the Egyptian “ambassador,” and the Egypt Air crew showed up at the 737. Twenty minutes later a panel truck arrived with the Egyptian 777 guard force. At about 9:30 P.M., the 737’s engines were started. At the same time, the Italians began to move trucks and construction equipment to block the entrances to the main runway. The only one they left open was the one the 737 would travel.
I called the Navy T-39. “Get ready,” I told them. “The 737 has cranked up. It will probably make a dash for the runway very soon.”
At about 9:50 P.M., the Egyptian 737 turned around and headed toward the end of the active runway. He began his takeoff run at about 10:00 P.M.
The T-39 began his own takeoff run at the same time. Since access to the main runway was blocked, the T-39 took off down the taxiway, which paralleled the main runway; and the two aircraft passed each other going in opposite directions, with Italian officers diving in the ditches as the T-39 roared over their heads.
Just after liftoff, the T-39 made a hard right turn and took up its trail position as I’d instructed.
Meanwhile, the Italians launched four jet interceptors from another base to try to drive the T-39 off and escort the 737 to its destination. Some very heated conversations took place between the interceptor pilots and the T- 39 crew, but to no avail. The T-39 crew continued their mission.
The Egyptian 737 flew to Fuciamo Airport, an auxiliary field next to Rome’s main international airport, Leonardo da Vinci.
When permission to land the T-39 was denied, the T-39 pilots declared a tactical emergency and set down right behind the Egyptian 737. The Egyptian 737 taxied to a position near the VIP lounge, and the T-39 parked beside it. Abu Abbas and his companion exited the plane and went inside. About an hour later, they emerged, dressed in Italian air force officers’ flight suits, and boarded a waiting Yugoslav civilian airliner which had been delayed for a scheduled flight to Belgrade, Yugoslavia.
Meanwhile, Ambassador Rabb had presented the Italian government with a request for the arrest of Abbas preparatory to his extradition. Craxi continued to stonewall. This request, he said, “did not, in the Justice Minister’s opinion, satisfy the factual and substantive requirements laid down by Italian law.... This being so, there was no longer any legal basis ... [for] detaining Abbas, since at the time he was on board an aircraft which enjoyed extraterritorial status.”
Shortly after the plane took off for Belgrade, Ambassador Rabb arrived at the Chigi Palace, the official residence of the Italian Prime Minister, to protest the release of Abbas. As he left, Rabb told reporters, “I’m not happy about what happened here today.”
The State Department scrambled to prepare another extradition request for Yugoslavia; it was actually delivered before Abbas landed in Belgrade. But it was a lost cause. Yugoslavia had diplomatic relations with the PLO, and Abbas, as a member of the PLO’s executive council, enjoyed diplomatic immunity. Two days later Abbas flew on to Aden, South Yemen, and from there to Baghdad.
AT about 11:00 P.M. October 11, a C-141 from Cairo landed, with twelve American hostages aboard. We took five of them, including Marilyn Klinghoffer, to the jail downtown; the others remained in the VIP lounge. At the jail, the district attorney had arranged a very professional
lineup (with magistrates present, as well as my Italian three-star counterpart). The five Americans positively and without hesitation identified the four terrorists as the ones who had hijacked the ship.
When the time came for Marilyn Klinghoffer to take a close look at Majiad al-Molqi, she spat in his face, then turned to me. “Let me have your pistol,” she told me, her voice cold with rage. “I want to shoot him.”
“I know how you feel,” I told her. “I’d want to do the same thing. But you have to understand that it would only further complicate matters. It’s best to let the Italian courts handle this thing in the appropriate way.”
She looked at me and said, “It hurts, but I guess you are right. Please pass my thanks to all your troops for what they have done for us.”
At about midnight, I took the hostages back to their C-141, which was waiting with its engines running, and prepared to launch.
In the meantime, all our people who’d remained behind with me had loaded my C-141, and were also prepared to launch ... except we couldn’t go anywhere. The Italians had blocked the plane with construction equipment.
Meanwhile, I went over to the plane that would carry the hostages home, to say “goodbye.” While 1 was there, the lieutenant general arrived.
After thanking him for his cooperation, I told him, “In my judgment, we’ve together been able to bring about the best possible ending for this complex incident.
“Shortly,” I also told him, “the hostages will be taking off for the United States, and I plan to be about thirty seconds behind them.”
He then looked me straight in the eyes and said, “We have decided that you’re not going anywhere.”
“What do you mean by that?” I said.
“You have created all this mess, and we just can’t let you fly away from it.”