Marine_ A Guided Tour Of A Marine Expeditionary Unit Part 15

Iranian Ministry of Machinery Automobile Plant #3, near Bandar al Abbas, September 5th, 2006 Wendy Kwan sat uncomfortably in the director's lobby of Iran's newest automobile plant, carefully sipping a cup of tea. One of CNN's top foreign correspondents, she was here to interview the Iranian Minister of Machinery, as well as the factory manager. The American trade embargo, dating back to the 1990s Clinton Administration, had been tough on Iranians, but their response had surprised Western observers. Rather than knuckling under, they had launched a modest industrialization program, which had grown dramatically in the last few years. Plant #3 was the prototype, based on the latest j.a.panese flexible manufacturing techniques. It was configured to produce everything from new automobiles to tractors and other heavy equipment. It could also produce combat vehicles. Though her current beat was financial news, Wendy had started as a Far East correspondent fifteen years before, and she knew more than she wanted to know about military hardware. The interview went almost too well. Both men and their a.s.sistants (bodyguards?) were pleasant. This put her ill at ease. She was not on some Wall Street trading floor. Here, she could disappear at the whim of one of these men. Today, however, no problems developed. Following the interview, they escorted her and the camera crew on a factory tour.

It was impressive. She was surprised by the sophistication of the technology. The Iranians had made deals with companies in Russia and the former Soviet Republics for start-up capital in trade for a guaranteed flow of equipment at favorable prices. All around, brand-new robots and computer workstations were being installed. Every piece of equipment, she was told, was tied into a central computer, which held a complete design database for every product built on the line. As they pa.s.sed the Engineering Department, she noted that the doors all had cipher locks, and that a plainclothes guard seemed to be checking workers' ID badges before they went in. Rather odd for an automobile plant, she thought. Then, as she was finis.h.i.+ng up her close-out shot for the story, she saw on the edge of her vision someone who made her blood run cold. Trying not to look again, she calmly told the crew to pack up and head back to the airport. Only after they had returned to Bahrain that evening did she even allow herself to think about the man she had seen.

Wendy had first seen him ten years earlier. In those days, Professor Kim Ha Soon had been a top physicist in North Korea's now-dead nuclear weapons program. And he had led the delegation that negotiated away that program for energy and food supplies at the end of the Cold War. Wendy had covered those talks with CNN's field team. She never forgot the war scare that swept the Korean Peninsula back in 1994 and 1995. She had seen him then, and remembered rumors around the press pool. Not only was Kim the brains behind their uranium enrichment program, he had also devised the deception and cover plan that had hid the Korean effort for years. Now he was at an Iranian automobile plant, coming out of a security zone, talking with the plant director. She decided to make a quick detour through Was.h.i.+ngton, D.C., on the way home, and to take the master tape with her. Her old Georgetown University roommate was now an Army major working for the Defense Nuclear Agency at Fort Belvoir. Wendy thought she might be able to feed this to someone who could make use of it.

Iranian Ministry of Machinery Headquarters, Teheran, Iran, September 15th, 2006 The Iranian Minister of Machinery sat in a high-backed chair and looked over a thick file folder of material about the "Special Machinery" project at Bushehr. So far security had held, and with only three months to completion, there appeared to be nothing to be concerned about. The CNN interview had shown only what he had wanted them to show, and his own performance had been both soothing and convincing. The image was exactly what he wanted--that his ministry was merely overseeing a plucky country's industrial program, trying to overcome the shackles of an unjust embargo. His own lack of military service (he had trained as a mechanical engineer in France) meant that he probably was not known beyond a thin file at CIA headquarters. He had never been politically active, and was considered rather boring in most trade circles. He was, he thought with a thin smile, the perfect cover for a nuclear weapons program.

The smallest details of security had been considered. For example, graduate students at several Iranian universities published scientific papers on nuclear physics under the names of key scientists in the program, so that their absence would not be noticed by Western scientists. Best of all, it was a small program, with just the two facilities at Bushehr and Bandar al Abbas on the coast 320 miles/512 kilometers to the southwest. Thanks to the new laser-plasma isotope separation process and a secure central computer database, less than 250 personnel were involved.

A folder on the desk held the time line for the final three months of the first production run--a dozen boosted fission weapons with a nominal fifty-kiloton yield, based on an implosion design using plutonium. Half would arm a squadron of intermediate-range ballistic missiles (IRBMs), and the other six would become warheads of Russian-supplied AS-19 cruise missiles, for air-launch by Iran's SU-24 Fencer fighter bombers. These weapons would allow Iran to deter any aggression from the Americans or their Arab lackeys in the Gulf while even more powerful weapons and delivery systems were developed by his ministry.

It had taken a long time. Almost fifteen years earlier, he had read the papers written by his good friend, now-Colonel Gholam Ha.s.sanzadeh. Armed with these, he had gone to an old mentor in the Defense Ministry with the proposal for a careful and discreet program to build nuclear warheads and delivery systems. It would take time and patience, but the plan would yield results. The Defense Ministry had entrusted him with industrial responsibility for the project, while Colonel Ha.s.sanzadeh handled security. That made them two of the most important men in Iran.

Now the project was about to bear fruit. He looked at the time lines with satisfaction, and mentally reviewed the schedules. Final a.s.sembly of the weapons was timed for the American holidays at the end of the year, when their attention would be focused on that bizarre form of football they wors.h.i.+pped more than their G.o.d. Over the Thanksgiving weekend, the components for the warheads would be moved from the fabrication shop at Automobile Plant #3 to the nuclear plant at Bushehr, where the plutonium was being extracted from the last batch of fuel rods from the twin reactors.

Starting on Christmas Eve, twelve warheads would be a.s.sembled in a special facility at Bushehr, over a period of seven days. Finally, the warheads would be brought back to the auto plant for mating to the IRBMs and AS-19s, with delivery to operational units the following day. Once the weapons were deployed, there would be a declaration that Iran was a nuclear power and would no longer submit to unfair treaties or agreements imposed by Western powers. From that moment, they would be the regional superpower. The Iranian people would again be able to seek their destiny, without interference by outsiders.

Russian Emba.s.sy, Teheran, Iran, September 26th, 2006 To Yuri Andreevich Rogov, sitting in his emba.s.sy office, the CD-ROM in his hand felt like a disk of deadly plutonium. It might as well have been, for it held the very doc.u.ments and diagrams that the Machinery Minister had been reviewing the night before. The disk had been smuggled out of Bushehr in an audio CD case, labeled as Armenian folk music. Someone had copied an actual audio CD, adding written data to the outside tracks. The disk had been pa.s.sed to Telfian covertly by one of the Pakistani technicians in the secure area, while they had been in the cafeteria together. Telfian had had no idea what it was at first--not until he inserted the disk into his multimedia laptop computer to listen to it, and accidentally found the data files. Telfian had then used a special code phrase whereby the emba.s.sy could request his recall on a phony family emergency. He gave the disk to Rogov, then returned the next day to Bushehr to maintain the cover for the brave Pakistani. Now Rogov had the problem of getting the disk back to SVR headquarters in Moscow. There was really only one way. He made reservations on an Aeroflot flight home in two days, so as not to appear too eager.

Defense Intelligence Agency Headquarters, Bolling AFB, near Was.h.i.+ngton, D.C., September 30th, 2006 The chairman of the Counterproliferation Coordinating Committee brought the meeting to order, and quickly summarized the data the Russians had forwarded that morning. Combined with other bits and pieces that had come in, they now had a full picture of how Iran planned to join the nuclear "club." The doc.u.ments detailed an exquisite deception and security plan. The Iranians had purchased daily 1-meter-resolution commercial satellite imagery covering every base in the Western world that supported special operations forces. The list read like a mailing roster for a snake-eaters convention. Fort Bragg, North Carolina; Hurlbert Field, Florida; the SEALs training base at Coronado, California. Even the garrison and training facilities for the British SAS and German GSG-9. They had arranged for Iranian nationals to emigrate to each nation and set up businesses, usually things like dry cleaners and pizza-takeout shops, just outside the bases themselves. The Iranian agents reported home though a complex E-mail path over the Internet using encrypted messages. It was an almost perfect system, and it would be noticed immediately if one of the agents were arrested. The result was that special operations units which could neutralize the Iranian weapons program were covered with an Iranian surveillance blanket, making surprise impossible.

What made the situation worse for the intelligence types was that they had done their job. Thanks to their efforts to bring together the intelligence community and build relations.h.i.+ps with past enemies, they had achieved an intelligence coup. Yet because of the Iranians' patience and care, it seemed as if nothing could be done. But unless they did something radical soon, the balance of power in the Middle East was about to take a dangerous tilt. The Marine lieutenant colonel broke the gloom with a comment about the Iranian surveillance list. Nowhere on it was even one U.S. Marine Corps base.

Fleet Marine Force Atlantic Headquarters, Naval Station Norfolk, Virginia, October 5th, 2006 Dr. Kennelly and Lieutenant Harris were both wondering what they were doing in the secure conference room of the Fleet Marine Force Atlantic (FMFLANT) headquarters this fine day. The heat and humidity of summer had finally broken, and you could almost feel fall in the air. In the room with them were a number of Navy, Air Force, and Marine officers, none over the rank of colonel or captain. Precisely at 0800, the brigadier who served as deputy commander FMFLANT rose and went to the podium. He pushed a b.u.t.ton to display a briefing slide onto the large-screen projector to the side of him.

"Ladies and gentleman, we have here an opportunity to excel...."

Everyone in the room tensed up, knowing exactly what that kind of invitation meant. As he outlined the situation at Bushehr and Bandar al Abbas, you could feel the anxiety in the room rise. Dr. Kennelly wondered if this was how it felt back in 1949 when the first Soviet A-bomb test was announced. If the data was correct, a new nuclear power would be born in just three months. The fact that he had contributed to the discovery just made him sicker. What the general had to say next stunned them even more: "Your job is to stop this program, and bring home irrefutable evidence of what the Iranians have been up to."

He flipped through his charts, and the officers made furious notes on the hard-copy charts that had been supplied to them. A Marine colonel spoke next.

"Sir, am I to understand that the 22nd MEU (SOC) is the only element of the force that will actually be in the Gulf itself?"

The reply came quickly. "Yes, Colonel, you'll relieve the 31st as scheduled, with the extra training and support that we have described here previously. Other than that, we want nothing of this operation to ever touch ground in the region. We're trying to provide complete deniability for the Saudis and our other friends. The President, the Congressional leaders.h.i.+p, and the Joint Chiefs are all behind this one, and they want it to go off smoothly. Any questions?"

"How about the name of the operation sir?"

The General replied with a smile, "Back in the 90s, the old-time intelligence a.n.a.lysts called this plant 'the Dead Dog.' When we get done with it, it's going to be a Chilly Dog!"

There was a long pause, after which the colonel replied, "Semper Fi, sir sir!"

Aboard USS Bataan (LHD-5), off the North Carolina Coast, November 1st, 2006 "All right, ladies and gentlemen, this is our final confirmation brief before we do this run-through for the last time. Are we clear on all the important points?" Colonel Mike Newman was going over the last of his briefing slides.

The young captain commanding Charlie Company replied, "Yes, sir. The last time showed that we're good on time and tasks, but we need to work on order and flow?"

"That's right, Jimmy. It's not so much that you're doing anything wrong; it's just that I want to see you guys flowing like black ink through the compound mock-ups. There's nothing we can do about being noticed eventually. I just want to delay the inevitable as long as possible, so the diversion force can really get the attention of that battalion on the north side of the access road." He stopped, and then his face wrinkled into a thinly veiled grin. "I want them giving their full attention to defending their own barracks," he continued, "and not bothering with a few guys in black jumpsuits." He finished with:"Let's do it right this last time, and put it into the can, folks!"

The last run-through was nearly perfect, good enough to satisfy Colonel Newman and the SOTG observers. With this part of the preparation completed, and the procedures for the disposal of the defensive oil platforms dealt with, they would be ready to deploy in early December.

Warhead a.s.sembly Room, Bushehr, Iran, December 4th, 2006 The Machinery Minister looked around with satisfaction at the twelve warhead a.s.sembly bays that were being finished. The movement of parts from the automobile factory had gone without incident, and the last phase of the plutonium extraction process had begun on time. In three weeks, a dozen nuclear weapons would take shape in this room, and there was nothing that the infidels or anyone else could do about it. That morning, he had received an intelligence briefing from his a.s.sistant at the ministry. The young man had a gift for this work, and amazingly, did absolutely nothing that was illegal in any country. The 1-meter-satellite imagery was acquired from a half-dozen different providers from France to the People's Republic of China. Data on movements by military units was also available over the Internet; it was as good as what most intelligence a.n.a.lysts saw in their morning briefings.

There was absolutely no indication of anything unusual at the bases where enemy special forces were plying their trade. In fact, there was a steady decline of military activity by the U.S. and her allies around the world. Even the U.S. Air Force, with its boast of "global reach," had been cutting back. The only matter of note that would be happening in the next month was a handover between two token Marine units in the Gulf. Nothing to worry about: only a single battalion aboard three s.h.i.+ps with a couple of escorts. The carrier battle group based around the USS Constellation (CV-64) would be operating out in the Arabian Sea, and would not enter the Persian Gulf on this cruise. It was going to work.

Onslow Beach, Camp Lejeune, North Carolina, December 7th, 2006 It was deployment day, and Captain Bill Hansen had the double problem of saying good-bye to his own wife and baby daughter, and getting his company of fifteen amphibious tractors aboard the USS Trenton Trenton (LPD-14). He would have the honor of taking the first unit of AAAVs out on cruise. He knew the real reason for this honor. Unlike others who had taken new systems to sea for the first time, he knew he would be taking this one into battle in just a few weeks. Luckily, the new vehicle had proven pretty reliable in field trials, and he had four contractor technicians to keep them in good shape. (LPD-14). He would have the honor of taking the first unit of AAAVs out on cruise. He knew the real reason for this honor. Unlike others who had taken new systems to sea for the first time, he knew he would be taking this one into battle in just a few weeks. Luckily, the new vehicle had proven pretty reliable in field trials, and he had four contractor technicians to keep them in good shape.

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. 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. 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 emba.s.sy 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, pa.s.sport, 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 s.h.i.+fts, 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, Was.h.i.+ngton, 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 Was.h.i.+ngton 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 a.s.sembly facility at Bushehr.

JACK RYAN ENTERPRISES LTD., BY LAURA ALPHER.

[image]

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 gla.s.s slowly, exhaled, and looked out over the city once again, wondering if G.o.d listened to political deathbed wishes and confessions.

Hangar Deck, USS Bataan Bataan (LHD-5), about 40 nm./73 km. Southwest of Bushehr, 0000 Hours, December 28th, 2006 (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 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 s.h.i.+p'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 s.p.a.ce and time was with the electronic tools of cybers.p.a.ce. 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 s.h.i.+p'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 s.p.a.ce and time was with the electronic tools of cybers.p.a.ce.

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 doc.u.ment 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, Bataan, ordered Battle Stations with an old-style bugle call, and then followed it up with the Marine Band's cla.s.sic recording of ordered Battle Stations with an old-style bugle call, and then followed it up with the Marine Band's cla.s.sic recording of The Marines Hymn. 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. 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 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. (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 s.h.i.+ps 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 simultaneously, 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. 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. 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 airs.p.a.ce. 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 cl.u.s.ter 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 ash.o.r.e minutes earlier, having crawled out of Trenton's Trenton's well deck, some 25 nm/45.7 km offsh.o.r.e. 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. well deck, some 25 nm/45.7 km offsh.o.r.e. 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 pa.s.sed 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 Bataan's LFOC. With a murmur of, "Dear Lord, don't let me screw up," Hansen ordered the AAAVs into action. 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) sh.e.l.ls 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 h.e.l.l 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 m.u.f.fled engines. When Colonel Newman sent out his "go" signal, the raiders made their dash for the loading ramp at full speed. They came ash.o.r.e 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 real job. The rest of the company headed into the plant for the hard part, the a.s.sault on the a.s.sembly and reactor control rooms. As they went in, a pair of LCACs headed into the dock area, loaded with trucks, LAVs, and other equipment. job. The rest of the company headed into the plant for the hard part, the a.s.sault on the a.s.sembly 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 a.s.sembly building. As the aircraft shuddered to a halt, she jammed the intercom b.u.t.ton, 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 their Marines. Punching the radio transmit b.u.t.ton, she ordered them to head back over the Gulf to orbit and wait. She would return for the pickup in under an hour.

Weapons a.s.sembly 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 a.s.sembly bays were located around the perimeter, each with a partially a.s.sembled warhead, or "physics package," sitting on an a.s.sembly stand. Off to the side of each a.s.sembly bay was a rolling rack of parts and sub-a.s.semblies. As he surveyed the prisoners, he noticed three older men standing off to one side of the cl.u.s.ter 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. Bataan. He then went outside and called Colonel Newman in the LFOC to tell him to get the "penthouse" cells of the s.h.i.+p's brig ready for three special prisoners, the Iranian Minister of Machinery, Colonel Gholam Ha.s.sanzadeh, 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. He then went outside and called Colonel Newman in the LFOC to tell him to get the "penthouse" cells of the s.h.i.+p's brig ready for three special prisoners, the Iranian Minister of Machinery, Colonel Gholam Ha.s.sanzadeh, 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.

A VMA-231 AV-8B Plus Harrier II Over the Bushehr Nuclear Power Plant, Bushehr, Iran, 0230 Hours, December 28th, 2006 From the c.o.c.kpit of Spade-1, Major Terry "Pirate" Kidd could see almost everything happening below through his night-vision goggles and the multi-function display of his FLIR targeting pod. He was flying at 12,000 ft/3,667.7 m. as lead s.h.i.+p of a two Harrier flight a.s.signed to cover Chilly Dog against interference by Iranian forces. Each aircraft carried pairs of Sidewinder and AMRAAM air-to-air missiles, two CBU-87 cl.u.s.ter bombs, a pair of AGM-65G Maverick air-to-ground missiles, and a GAU-12 25mm gun pod. He had listened to Spade-3 and -4 taking out the defense platforms with their HARMs, and was now using his APG-65 radar to track the movements of the HMM-263 helicopters.

As he and his wingman orbited back to the west, he saw the LCACs unloading vehicles and other equipment at the dock, and he smiled as Lieutenant Colonel Shaw called in the success code for capturing the Iranian nuclear weapons and personnel. All that was left was to take care of the reactor itself, and then to get everyone back out into international waters. Thus far, Chilly Dog had gone perfectly, with only two Marines from Charlie Company suffering minor wounds from stray Iranian fire at the power plant.

Then it happened. One of the AH-1 W attack helicopters came too close to the Iranian garrison compound, and a trio of shoulder-fired SA-16 missiles lanced out towards the Cobra. The helicopter evaded two of the missiles through a combination of maneuver and decoy flares, but the last missile hit home on the tail boom. Though it was heavily damaged, the pilot managed to get it to the ground, but not before he and the gunner both suffered sprained backs and ankles. They managed to crawl away from the wreckage (which, thankfully, didn't burn), calling on their rescue radios for a TRAP mission. Pirate immediately called for the standby TRAP team: a CH-53E and two Harriers. The TRAP team Marines were standing by on the hangar deck ready to go, and Colonel Newman in the LFOC indicated that they would be on station in twenty minutes. Until then, Pirate and Spade-2 would provide cover for the two downed Marines.

The first problem was to suppress the continuing ground fire from the Iranian compound. Kidd locked up his FLIR onto an air conditioning unit on the top of the nearest barracks and slaved his radar to provide a good delivery solution. He ordered his wingman in Spade-2 to hit the other end of the compound, and they dove on the complex, releasing their CBU-87s. Kidd tried to put out of his mind that he had probably just killed a hundred or more Iranian soldiers. Combat was like that. In the end, what kept him focused was the fact that he was doing it for two brother Marines who were down and hurt. His mind clearer, he turned the Harrier flight around in a wide starboard turn, and headed back to the crash site.

Reactor Control Room, Bushehr Nuclear Power Plant, Iran, 0250 Hours, December 28th, 2006 The last act of the Chilly Dog a.s.sault plan was "safeing" the reactor plant. This meant finding a way to rapidly shut down the plant, and then to make it incapable of producing plutonium. The solution had been found in an IAEA report on a Czech nuclear plant that was a near twin of the Bushehr facility.

When you perform an emergency shutdown of a nuclear pile, called a SCRAM, there is a lot of latent heat left in the reactor. Even with the cooling pumps working full speed, the IAEA specialists figured that it would take three to four days for the plant to go "cold" to the point where it could be completely shut down. Destroying the huge water-cooling towers was out of the question. Damaging the control rod a.s.sembly was also ruled out, since it would require opening the radioactive reactor pressure vessel. The experts therefore decided that the safest course of action would be to eliminate the ability to restart the reactor by taking out the control rod electronics and consoles, once the reactor had been SCRAMed and backup generators started to maintain the cooling pumps' vital flow of water. This would require access to the main control room of the plant, and that was easier said than done.

Just as the laws of physics dictate the design of a nuclear reactor core, regardless of the owner's ideology, the laws of small-arms fire and human psychology dictate the design of a reactor control complex. Security is a fundamental design criterion. To be certified as safe to operate, a reactor control complex must pa.s.s a rigorous security-threat evaluation, just as its overall design, systems redundancy, doc.u.mentation, and operator training must be evaluated by appropriate experts. Over the years, a great deal of high-tech wizardry had been proposed for ensuring the safety of reactor controls against a well-armed and well-organized terrorist attack. Entry locks keyed to retinal patterns, fingerprints, or brain-wave spectrums of authorized personnel. Pa.s.sageways that can be instantly filled with sticky foam, or debilitating gas.

At Bushehr, though, physical security relied on the tried and true system of steel doors with firing ports, and men with automatic weapons behind them. These defenses were deployed in depth, with a labyrinth of right-angle turns that created "man-trap" corridors with kill zones swept by fire from two directions.

But anything defended by men with guns can be taken by men with guns. The variables are hard to quantify, but they include training, small-unit cohesion, special weapons and tactics, and something indefinable that falls somewhere between uncommon valor and common craziness. The Marines of the 22nd MEU (SOC) had practiced this drill many times, often taking the role of the "aggressor" forces in exercises staged with the cooperation of the Department of Energy at a variety of active and decommissioned nuclear plants.

The main outer gate resembled a bank vault door; indeed it had been installed by the same firm that supplied most of the vaults for the better-known Swiss banks. In initial planning for the mission, Major Shaw of VMA-231 had proposed cracking the gate with the formidable armor-piercing warheads of precision-guided Maverick missiles; but the problem of targeting in the confusion of the ground battle, the proximity of friendly troops, and the risk of collateral damage to the plant had ruled this out.

In the end it came down to the practiced eye and hand of Lance Corporal Drew Richardson, an AT-4 missile gunner in the Heavy Weapons Platoon of Charlie Company. Repeated direct hits with shoulder-fired rockets left the ma.s.sive steel door twisted and hanging from its hinges. Two Marines managed to loop a steel cable around the wreckage, and the powerful winch on an LAV combat engineer vehicle, landed by one of the LCACs, pulled it clear. Inside the door, the pa.s.sageway made a right-angle turn, and the darkened corridor was under fire from both ends.

The security team had ordered the control crew, including the foreign contract workers, behind an armored door, and prepared to defend the room against the Marines that they now knew were inside the perimeter of the power plant. They had given up trying to call for outside help long ago, the phone lines having been cut by the Force Reconnaissance teams and the airwaves jammed by a LAV electronic combat vehicle brought ash.o.r.e by the LCACs. There was little they could do except defend the room to the death, which was exactly what they intended to do.

The drill for the forced-entry team was not subtle. One man would toss smoke grenades around the corner, while a pair of AT-4 gunners, each wearing a respirator and lightweight FLIR goggles, rolled out onto the floor, firing into the next barrier. The team leader used a thermal viewer with a right-angle periscope to determine the results of each shot. This had to be repeated several times before the last guard posts were silenced and the final steel door to the reactor control room was breached with a demolition charge.

The a.s.sault force poured through the opening, to take the control room crew into temporary custody. The night-duty crew inside the control room consisted of about a dozen technicians. Some had been deafened by the blast, and a few were cut by splinters, but they had had the sense to stay away from the door when they heard the first m.u.f.fled explosions. As the Marines cautiously entered the room, they quickly secured the technicians, binding their wrists with plastic handcuffs, and separating the contract workers from the Iranians. The native technicians were trooped outside to a holding area, while the three foreigners were kept in the room.

Among them was Lev Davidovich Telfian, who had wisely donned earplugs and goggles before the engagement began. He had decided as soon as the first warning had sounded to lay low, taking no action that might be construed as favoring either side. While he hoped that the Marines would evacuate him, he feared that they might just as well leave him behind. He was relieved when the young lieutenant commanding the a.s.sault team came forward and greeted him personally with a warm handshake.

AH-1W Crash Site South of Bushehr Nuclear Power Plant, Iran, 0255 Hours, December 28th, 2006 The two Cobra crewmen had taken cover behind a large rock, and were monitoring the status of the TRAP team's progress on their rescue radios. Colonel Newman was better than his word, and the big CH-53E with its security team arrived eighteen minutes after the emergency call. With two fresh Harriers flying top cover, the Super Stallion touched down, and a platoon of Marines fanned out to surround the site. While four Navy corpsmen saw to the injuries of the Cobra crewmen, four more Marines approached the wreck of the AH-1W, secured the cla.s.sified and crypto components, and set demolition charges to ensure nothing useful to the Iranians was left behind. Five minutes later, mission accomplished, the CH-53E lifted off. The charges detonated, turning the wreck into a blazing fireball of jet fuel and ammunition.

Reactor Control Room, Bushehr Nuclear Power Plant, Iran, 0310 Hours, December 28th, 2006 The control room was becoming crowded with all the witnesses and the CNN camera crew. Colonel Newman had made it clear that this phase of Chilly Dog would be doc.u.mented to the smallest detail. For Wendy Kwan, looking somewhat less than glamorous in a desert camouflage Kevlar helmet and battle-dress uniform, it was the most exhilarating and frightening experience of her life. She watched as the Marine technical team leader pressed the red SCRAM b.u.t.tons for each reactor, setting off a chorus of alarms. Each move was supervised by Hans Ulrich, Professor Kennelly, and a Russian she did not know. After the alarms and warning indicators had been turned off, and the backup generators had automatically kicked in to keep the cooling circulation pumps running, the Marines went to work.

They rapidly dismantled the control rod a.s.sembly panel, leaving only cable ends clipped off, their connectors removed for good measure. The racks of control electronics were given the same treatment and wheeled out of the room. Finally, a pair of Marines with sticky-foam guns arrived. They filled the control conduits to the reactors with the quick-setting foam, making it impossible to restore the plant's control circuits without extensive demolition work. When this was done, the room was evacuated, and it was time to go home. Ten minutes later, at the suggestion of Lieutenant Colonel Shaw, the Iranian technicians returned to the control room, taking over the job of monitoring coolant flow to the rapidly faltering reactor.

LFOC, USS Bataan Bataan (LHD-5), 40 nm/73 km West of Bushehr, Iran, 0315 Hours, December 28th, 2006 (LHD-5), 40 nm/73 km West of Bushehr, Iran, 0315 Hours, December 28th, 2006 Criminals say that breaking into a bank is hard, but getting away is harder. It was now time for the 22nd MEU (SOC) to get the h.e.l.l out of Iran. While they had done immense damage, their luck could not hold forever. Already there were seven casualties, and additional delay on the Iranian coast would only cause more. First to go were the LCACs, with their load of equipment from the plant and reprocessing facility, as well as the heavy vehicles and trucks. The partially a.s.sembled warheads followed in a pair of CH-53Es, along with the prisoners from the a.s.sembly room in MV-22Bs. Charlie Company in their rigid raiders left next, escorted by the three surviving Cobra guns.h.i.+ps. A single CH-53E, covered by Major Kidd's two Harriers, moved around the battlefield, retrieving sniper and Force Reconnaissance teams. Captain Hansen and his AAAVs withdrew through the mud flats, to begin their high-speed swim back to Trenton (LPD-14). Last out was Lieutenant Colonel Shaw aboard Lieutenant Colonel Taskins's Osprey. Five minutes later, the only sounds to be heard at the Bushehr nuclear power plant were the hum of the backup generators and circulation pumps and the sputtering explosions of ammunition cooking off in the barracks across the road.

USS Bataan Bataan (LHD-5), 0415 Hours, December 28th, 2006 (LHD-5), 0415 Hours, December 28th, 2006 The Air Boss spent a busy twenty minutes getting LCACs and aircraft aboard; the elevators had never been worked so hard in so short a time. First aboard were the Harriers, which were rapidly rearmed, refueled, and launched to provide combat air patrol (CAP) during the critical hours to come. The nuclear material was loaded into s.h.i.+elded containers and sealed for s.h.i.+pment. The prisoners were processed into three groups. The "special" tags were a.s.signed to key leaders and technicians, who went straight to the s.h.i.+p's brig and a round-the-clock suicide watch. Minor personnel were restricted to a chain-link-fenced area in the hangar bay, until they could be returned to Iran through the Red Cross. Finally, there were evacuees like Lev Davidovich Telfian, who were given a ration of medical bourbon, a hot breakfast, and a stateroom to sleep off their adventures. He shared it with the Pakistani technician who had pa.s.sed him the CD-ROM, and both slept well for the first time in months. For the Marines, Captain Rainbow had laid on a special meal of steak and eggs, followed by a quick cleaning and stowing of weapons before they hit their bunks. When Trenton Trenton rejoined the formation, the ARG and its escorts laid on 24 kt/44 kph, and headed for the Straits of Hormuz. There they would pick up a CAP of F-14 Tomcats and F/A-18 Hornets from rejoined the formation, the ARG and its escorts laid on 24 kt/44 kph, and headed for the Straits of Hormuz. There they would pick up a CAP of F-14 Tomcats and F/A-18 Hornets from Constellation, Constellation, and would head out into the open ocean and Diego Garcia, where they would off-load their cargo and pa.s.sengers. and would head out into the open ocean and Diego Garcia, where they would off-load their cargo and pa.s.sengers.