His concentration was broken suddenly by the buzz of twin turboprops, and he looked up just in time to see Lieutenant Colonel Colleen Taskins banking her MV-22B Osprey to the north, followed by three other Ospreys from HMM-263. She had a fifteen-minute flight ahead, and then a landing aboard Bataan. He smiled, because Taskins faced the same problem he did. Though the Osprey had been in service for a few years, this would probably be its first combat trial. Lieutenant Colonel Taskins had been chosen as the first woman to command a Marine combat helicopter unit; now she would likely be the first female to command a Marine unit in actual combat. Not that this was a problem: Inside the pixie-faced lady who could turn the head of every male Marine in the MEU (SOC) was the heart of a warrior. He also knew that if something went wrong at Bushehr, she would be the first one in the air to come pick them up. Shaking the thought off, he climbed into his AAAV, and ordered the driver to head into the surf.
Reactor Control Room, Bushehr, Iran, December 15th, 2006
Lev Davidovich Telfian was nervous. A few days earlier he had been visited by Rogov, from the embassy in Tehran. The visit, sponsored by the Iranians, was one of many to industrial plants employing contract Russian personnel. He and Rogov had gone walking along the waterfront, beyond the ears of Iranian security. Rogov had quietly advised him to be ready for "something," possibly even "anything." Then he'd headed back to Teheran. Since that time Telfian had taken to carrying his personal effects with him. His computer, passport, and hard currency were carefully stashed in his briefcase, along with a clean pair of socks, underwear, and a toothbrush. He explained this to the security guards as an accommodation to the plant managers who were asking him to work extra shifts, which in fact they were.
Now he was doing his turn in the rotation as the midnight-to eight supervisor. He would continue on this schedule until New Year's Eve. After that, the Iranians had offered all the foreign workers a paid three-month vacation. He was ready for it. Even though he had grown up in the former Soviet Union, where you learned to suppress all outward signs of fear, suspicion, or thought, the stress of staying calm every day was immense. Nevertheless, he noted with curiosity that after running at top capacity for six months, the twin reactors were now at only 66%. He just knew it had to do with the CD-ROM the Pakistani had given him. Something bad was happening, and it was about to get much worse. He wondered if he would survive.
Oval Office, the White House, Washington, D.C., December 17th, 2006
The National Christmas Tree lighting had gone well earlier that evening, and the press was already speculating about the forthcoming State of the Union message. Expected to be another one-term President, the Chief Executive had stunned the world with a last-minute victory over his rival, a senator from Washington State with a penchant for bribery and adultery that offended the electorate's infatuation with morality. Now, as the President looked out over the balcony towards the park, he wondered if winning was going to be worth it. Like so many other men who had sat in this office, he had entrusted foreign policy to others while he dealt with the challenge of the budgetary shambles left by an angry Congress.
Map of the raid on the Iranian nuclear weapons assembly facility at Bushehr.
JACK RYAN ENTERPRISES LTD., BY LAURA ALPHER
The result was that he was betting the future on a military adventure that his advisors said was foolhardy. He had to make good his own failure to pay attention to the troubles of the world; this desperate venture was the best, last chance. Making a pre-New Year's resolution, he promised that if Chilly Dog came off, he would gut the National Security Council and State Department and start fresh. He sipped the bourbon in his glass slowly, exhaled, and looked out over the city once again, wondering if God listened to political deathbed wishes and confessions.
Hangar Deck, USS Bataan (LHD-5), about 40 nm./73 km. Southwest of Bushehr, 0000 Hours, December 28th, 2006
It was game time for Operation Chilly Dog, and Colonel Mike Newman had never felt more alive. All through his career, he had wanted to lead Marines on an important combat mission, and now this skinny kid from Wisconsin was about to do just that. It was almost enough to keep him from losing his mid-rats right here in Bataan's hangar bay. The worst part of the whole thing was that he would not get more than a few yards/meters from this very point. Given the complexity of Chilly Dog, he would fight this battle from a console in the Landing Force Operations Center (LFOC) on the ship's 02 Level. For the first time in his career, he would not lead from the front, and he felt guilty. It made no sense, of course, because unlike John Howard at Pegasus Bridge in 1944 and Dan Shomron at Entebbe in 1976, the only way that this mission could be coordinated in space and time was with the electronic tools of cyberspace.
Around the hangar bay, over five-hundred Marines were checking weapons and equipment. The sickly yellow-orange sodium lights cast a surrealistic glow over the scene. As he walked from group to group, encouraging them to muted shouts of "Oooh-rah!" and "Semper Fi, sir!" he watched Marines apply desert camouflage paint to their war faces. Over near the port elevator bay stood the most important group of all, the media/observer team. There had been much debate about bringing them along, but in the end, the need to justify the action to the world community had won out. Dr. Kennelly from Oak Ridge was talking with Hans Ulrich from the IAEA. He smiled at the thought that these two bookish men had given them the first "tickle" on Bushehr. Both were looking decidedly uncomfortable in desert "cammies." Wendy Kwan and her CNN crew were mingling with the DoD Combat Camera team that would document the event for the world. She had been offered the opportunity as a reward for fingering Professor Kim Ha Soon at the automobile plant. Now she and her crew would get the rest of the story. Colonel Newman grimly smiled, and hoped that she would live to collect the Emmy that would inevitably be hers--if she survived.
Suddenly, Captain Fred Rainbow, commander of Bataan, ordered Battle Stations with an old-style bugle call, and then followed it up with the Marine Band's classic recording of The Marines Hymn. The troops on the hangar bay immediately struck a brace, and sang along at the top of their lungs. It was almost too much for Colonel Newman, who wondered how many of the young men and women in this bay he would have to write letters for tomorrow.
He went up to the LFOC on the 02 Level and sat down at his battle console, motionless until a thermal mug of coffee laced with cocoa thumped down in front of him. He looked up to see Lieutenant j.g. Jeff Harris, who had been transferred to his intelligence staff following his discovery of the two defensive platforms near Bushehr. "Showtime, sir," was the comment from the young officer, who showed a pensive smile. His errand to his colonel done, he sat at the console beside Newman's, where he would monitor the sensor feeds from the UAVs that had just launched from the flight deck of Trenton (LPD-14). The call to flight quarters brought Newman back to reality, and he said a silent prayer as he watched his Marines troop aboard the helicopters over the deck television monitor. Ten minutes later, they lifted off into the inky night.
Defense Platform #2,10 nm/18.3 km West of Bushehr, Iran, 0200 Hours, December 28th, 2006
The duty officer of the platform stood over a radar operator monitoring the formation of ships to the south. There had been some launching and landing of helicopters and Harrier jump jets, but this was entirely normal for the enemy, who loved to fly at night, like bats. The sensors of the heavily armed platform detected nothing unusual, and he picked up the telephone to report in to the security center at Bushehr. The fiber-optic data link to the center at the Bushehr Airport ensured that communications to the mainland were not subject to the vulnerability of radio transmission which could be jammed or intercepted by an enemy. As he finished his hourly check-in call, he moved over to the teapot to pour himself a cup of Persian brew. It would never touch his lips.
At precisely 0201 hours, an AV-8B Plus Harrier II from VMA-231 fired a salvo of four AGM-88 High Speed Anti-Radiation Missiles (HARMs). A few hundred feet above the platform, their warheads detonated almost simultane
ously, spraying thousands of armor-piercing tungsten cubes which shredded exposed antennas and weapons canisters. Within a minute of the missile strike, a raider craft carrying a four-man SEAL team cut the armored fiber-optic cable back to the mainland and flashed a signal to an MV-22B Osprey. By 0204, over twenty Marines from the 22nd MEU (SOC)'s Maritime Special Purpose Force (MSPF) had fast-roped down to the deck and cleared out the seven survivors of the missile attack. The dazed prisoners were taken aboard the Osprey and sent back to the Bataan. At the same time, an identical force was taking out the other platform some miles to the south. The outer layer of Bushehr's defenses had just been eliminated, and the Iranians did not even know it. In a few more minutes, they would not care.
Road Causeway between the Town of Bushehr and the Power Plant, Iran, 0205 Hours, December 28th, 2006
The Marine Force Reconnaissance platoon had been in place for two days reporting back over a secure satellite link to Colonel Newman in the LFOC. Now they had just cut the phone lines to the power plant and prepared the causeway for demolition, should anyone try and come down the road. They were armed with Javelin anti-tank missiles to maul anyone who tried. This platoon was one of two covering access routes from the town of Bushehr, and the sergeants leading them prayed that the extraction plan worked as planned. The alternative was a very long walk to Pakistan.
Bushehr Airport, Bushehr, Iran, 0205 Hours, December 28th, 2006
The loss of signals from the data links was noticed immediately by Security Control at Bushehr airport. Like military personnel everywhere, the duty section called the maintenance section and poured another cup of tea to stay awake. Overhead, four bat-shaped B-2A Spirit stealth bombers from the 509th Wing at Whitman AFB, Missouri, silently took position for what had to be a perfect strike. They had staged out of Anderson AFB on Guam, refueling from K.C-10A Extenders based at Diego Garcia. At 2007 hours, sixteen GBU-29 Joint Direct Attack Munitions (JDAMs) precision-guided bombs dropped from each bomber's weapons bays. Each bomb was guided by a GPS receiver to fall within five meters of a pre-surveyed aim point. The most important targets got a pair of bombs, the rest received a single JDAM. The first weapons struck the hardened concrete of the security center as planned, slicing through overheads with the penetrating power of 2,000-lb/909.1-kg warheads. Within thirty seconds, the command center, post office, telephone exchange, runways, hardened aircraft shelters full of MiG-29s, and other targets around Bushehr had been neutralized.
Two minutes behind the B-2s came eight B-1B Lancers from the 7th Wing at Dyess AFB, Texas, also launched from Anderson AFB and refueled from KC-10As at Diego Garcia. Their targets were two battalions of troops in barracks adjacent to Bushehr airport. Each unloaded twelve AGM-154 Joint Standoff Weapons (JSOWs) from their weapons bays, well outside Iranian airspace. Following a two-minute gliding flight, the ninety-six JSOWs, guided by onboard GPS receivers, unloaded their payloads of BLU-97/B Combined Effects Munitions (CEMs). They blanketed over a hundred acres of troop billeting and vehicle-parking areas with thousands of CEMs, and the effects were horrific. The two minutes since the bombs from the B-2 strike had given the troops time to throw on their boots, grab their weapons, and rush outside to be shredded into hamburger by exploding cluster munitions. After a few minutes, the Bushehr garrison could no longer defend itself, much less the power plant to the south.
Ra's-e Hhalileh Mud Flats, Southeast of Bushehr Power Plant,
Iran, 0210 Hours, December 28th, 2006
Captain Hansen and his fifteen AAAVs were crawling across the mud flats south of the power plant. They had swum ashore minutes earlier, having crawled out of Trenton's well deck, some 25 nm/45.7 km offshore. Hansen had seen the flashes from the bombs in Bushehr, and was waiting for the radio signal that would send his pack of armored vehicles into a headlong cavalry charge. Nothing like this had been seen since Eagle Troop of the 2nd Armored Cavalry Regiment had charged an Iraqi brigade at the Battle of 73 Easting back in 1991. He just hoped that he was not leading his men into another Battle of the Little Bighorn.
The snipers of the 22nd MEU (SOC)'s BLT had broken into four teams, each armed with a Barrett .50-caliber sniper rifle. Each team sat in a spider hole, a mile from the guard posts of the power plant. As the spotters sighted the guards in the corner towers and passed them to the shooters, they awaited a signal at 0210 to go into action. The signal for each team came over a miniature satellite communications terminal, and all four fired their first shots within seconds of each other. Each weapon spat out a total of ten rounds, taking out the guards, radar and communications antennas, and power lines. Within a minute, all four teams flashed their "success" code back to Colonel Newman in Bataan's LFOC. With a murmur of, "Dear Lord, don't let me screw up," Hansen ordered the AAAVs into action.
The fifteen AAAVs spread out in a wide line and charged forward at over 40 mph/65.5 kph across the mud. When they came within 1,500 meters of the garrison perimeter, they opened up with 25mm cannons, spewing high-explosive incendiary (HEI) shells into the compound. Buildings began to burn and soldiers ran about wildly. Ragged return fire fell around the fast-moving AAAVs. Captain Hansen's men fired an occasional Javelin missile against anyone who got too accurate. The vehicles churned up the mud east of the compound, generally raising hell and making noise. Captain Hansen hoped it would be enough diversion to cover the rest of the Marines coming in from the sea.
Delivery Pier and Ramp, Bushehr Nuclear Power Plant, Iran,
0220 Hours, December 28th, 2006
The rigid raider craft had disembarked from an LCAC about 10 nm/18.3 km off the coast, and had come the rest of the way on muffled engines. When Colonel Newman sent out his "go" signal, the raiders made their dash for the loading ramp at full speed. They came ashore at almost the instant Captain Hansen's attack began, and were covered almost perfectly. Out of the rigid raiders came Charlie Company, which split into three teams. One platoon disposed of the guards at the security posts, and then set up a security cordon inside the razor-wire fence, just in case the Iranian guard force remembered its real job. The rest of the company headed into the plant for the hard part, the assault on the assembly and reactor control rooms. As they went in, a pair of LCACs headed into the dock area, loaded with trucks, LAVs, and other equipment.
Ra's-e Hhalileh Mud Flats, South of Bushehr Power Plant, Iran,
0220 Hours, December 28th, 2006
Captain Hansen had ordered his AAAVs into defilade behind some low rises, to reload their 25mm ammunition and Javelin launchers and draw the Iranians out of their barracks. It worked like a charm. About four hundred Iranians moved out of their compound, escorted by light trucks and scout vehicles armed with machine guns and recoilless rifles. They had closed within one thousand yards/meters of his line of vehicles when he made a radio call. Seconds later, two pairs of AH-1W Cobra attack helicopters rose on either flank of the Iranians and opened fire with 20mm cannons and 2.75-in. rocket pods. At the same time, the AAAVs began to fire again. It was a slaughter. Under fire from three directions, the Iranians could not even retreat. In a matter of moments, white flags began to appear, and Hansen was forced to order a "cease-fire." He then ordered the Cobras to hold them there, and ordered his vehicle towards the power plant, the sea, and, he hoped, safety. He had to make sure the rest of the security battalion was kept busy, but he doubted there was much left to occupy.
Over the Power Plant, Bushehr, Iran, 0222 Hours,
December 28th, 2006
Lieutenant Colonel Colleen Taskins thumbed the "tilt" control on the throttle column and flared her MV-22B Osprey to a hover over the roof of the weapons assembly building. As the aircraft shuddered to a halt, she jammed the intercom button, and called, "Let 'em go, Chief!" Just behind her, the crew chief lowered the rear ramp and Marines began to fast-rope out of the side exits and the rear ramp. In less than thirty seconds, all twenty were on the roof, working their way down into the building. Scanning left and right, she saw that the other five Ospreys of her flight had offloaded thei
r Marines. Punching the radio transmit button, she ordered them to head back over the Gulf to orbit and wait. She would return for the pickup in under an hour.
Weapons Assembly Room, Bushehr Power Plant, Iran,
0223 Hours December 28th, 2006
The warning klaxon sounded, and the security reaction team rushed to the access doors. It did no good. The guards had hardly made it to their posts when the lights went out and the doors were blown open by small shaped charges. Combined with some flash-bang grenades, the effect was intended to render those inside temporarily deaf and blind, unable to respond. It worked pretty well, with only two guards requiring some non-lethal projectiles to take them down. The use of less-than-deadly force was not so much in the interests of humanity, as to minimize dust and contaminants in the almost surgically clean room. Within seconds, the Marines had the room secured, and Lieutenant Colonel Tom Shaw, the commander of the 3/8 BLT, the 24th's GCE, strode in to take charge of the scene.
What he found was a white-painted, high ceilinged room that looked like a cross between an automobile service center and an operating room. Twelve assembly bays were located around the perimeter, each with a partially assembled warhead, or "physics package," sitting on an assembly stand. Off to the side of each assembly bay was a rolling rack of parts and sub-assemblies. As he surveyed the prisoners, he noticed three older men standing off to one side of the cluster of dejected personnel. He ordered two of his Marines to take charge of them and ensure they were on the first evacuation flight back to the Bataan. He then went outside and called Colonel Newman in the LFOC to tell him to get the "penthouse" cells of the ship's brig ready for three special prisoners, the Iranian Minister of Machinery, Colonel Gholam Hassanzadeh, and Professor Kim Ha Soon of North Korea. He wondered how the United Nations would deal with these three, but decided to leave that to those with better-looking suits than his. Right now, though, he had a more pressing problem to deal with. "Safeing" a live nuclear power plant.