Authors: Charlie A. Beckwith
Delta Force
Colonel Beckwith dedicates this book
to his wife Katherine
and their three daughters.
PROLOGUEI COULDN'T SEE
any reason for hanging around the Pentagon. I wasn't accomplishing anything.
It was April of 1980. After several months I was nearly certain Delta would now deploy to Egypt. That's where we'd stage. General Jones, before leaving the Stockade with General Vaught the day before, had asked me to a briefing of the Joint Chiefs of Staff (JCS) this day. It would be another meeting, I was sure, like all the others I'd attended in the past five months. I was wrong. The meetings on Wednesday, April 16, 1980, were to be different.
I'd been in the JCS tank before, when I worked for Admiral McCain of the Pacific Command. On those occasions the room was packed. This day, however, there wasn't anyone there except the Chiefs of each service and some of us “Rice Bowl” people. Admiral Thomas Hayward, Chief of Naval Operations, was there; so was the Commandant of the Marine Corps, General Robert H. Barrow. So, too, was the Air Force Vice Chief of Staff, General Robert Mathis. Of course, the Army's Chief of Staff, General E. C. Meyer, was in attendance, as were Generals Vaught and Gast. I chose a seat behind “Moses.” He turned and slapped my knee. He was grinning.
General Jones began the brief. “As you all know, we have been working hard to develop a means to rescue the hostages from Teheran. We have been working the problem since November. Now I believe we have a sound plan. I want you to hear the plan and then to ask questions. It's not a simple plan;
however, we have tried to make it as straightforward as possible. Jim,” he turned to General Vaught, “how about starting off?”
The Task Force Commander discussed the mission's background. He was nervous at this meeting and didn't articulate the various aspects of the overall plan as well as we'd come to expect from him.
Next, I covered the ground tactical plan, the actual operationâhow we were going go get from Desert One to Teheran, free the hostages, and escape. After I'd finished, General Barrow asked tactical questions: “What weapons will you carry? Can you interdict Roosevelt Avenue with covering fire, and from what location? How long will you be in the compound?”
Then it was General Meyer's turn. “Charlie, from the time you leave Egypt to the time you go over the wall you will be under stressâfor thirty-six hours. I want you to tell me how you're going to handle that. I'm concerned with what kind of condition you and the operators will be in when you go over the wall.”
I explained I was going to discipline myself and catch sleep where I couldâprobably some in Egypt, and on the following day in the hideout. I talked about how Delta Force was going to rotate during that periodâ50 percent on alert, 50 percent standing down.
General Meyer had another worry. “I'm apprehensive. How will the operation be controlled here in the Pentagon? I'm concerned that it be carefully controlled by only those who need to be involvedâand by no one else.” He went on to talk about when the JCS regulated the chopping of the tree in the Korean DMZ, which was being used for observation purposes by the North Koreans, and the controls that had been placed on General Dick Stilwell. He spoke against the large number of both military and civilian people who had access to the JCS Control Center during that earlier crisis. He hoped it would be different this time. His admonition hit home. It was apparent General Jones, too, was anxious about this management problem. The briefing adjourned around 3:30
P.M
.
Because things seemed to be heating up some, I wanted to
get back to Bragg to look into some last-minute details. General Vaught thought I should hang around a while, but wouldn't tell me why. Something was up. General Gast, while we walked down to the Special Ops Division of the JCS, enlightened me.
“We want you to stay in Washington, because we're going to go over tonight to the White House and brief the President and the National Security Council.” I nearly fell over! The meeting I just left had been, certainly, a rehearsal for showtime that evening with President Carter and his foreign policy advisors.
During the next three hours, I drank a lot of coffee with some of the guys in the ops office. I worried whether what I was wearingâa sport coat and tieâwas right. Maybe I should be wearing a three-piece suit.
In one of the offices I ran into Buckshot, who was in the Pentagon on another matter. I confided in him where I was going in a few hours. He became as excited as I. He was wearing his SAS regimental tie and he gave it to me to wear that evening. I wanted it for good luck.
At 6:30, General Vaught, General Gast, and I, all in civilian clothes, were driven to General Jones's residence in Fort Myer, Virginia. The General wore a smart-looking Harris tweed sport jacket, gray slacks, and tie. I figured my dress was appropriate. We climbed back into the car and were taken to the White House. During the drive, all jammed together, there was little talk but there was a tangible sense of purpose. We would never be more prepared.
The Secret Service uniformed officer was shown some identification and waved us through the gate. I'd never been on the grounds of the White House before. We were led through the corridors and up and down the staircases that led to the Situation Room. I tried to memorize everything in sight. I was a long way from my pea patch.
“The Room” is small, maybe 15 X 20 feet, and windowless. Comfortable office chairs were placed around a central conference table. Another row of chairs was situated in front of
the paneled wood walls. There were some people waiting for us. Among them, Jody Powell impressed me by the way he talked and asked questions. As for the chief of staff of the White House, I expected he'd have a little age on him. But Hamilton Jordan looked awfully young. He wore Levi's.
I was introduced to the Agency's man and to Warren Christopher, the Deputy Secretary of State. Cyrus Vance was talking to someone in the corner. Dr. Brown came in right behind us and had with him his Deputy Secretary of Defense, Mr. Claytor. Dr. Brzezinski appeared suddenly. Finally, Vice-President Mondale arrived, wearing a sweat suit and fancy sneakersâwhich did not impress me. I found a seat behind and between Dr. Brzezinski and the Vice-President. The President, in a blue blazer and gray slacks, walked into the room. Everyone jumped to attention. “Good evening, Mr. President.” He looked good.
General Jones took the lead. After quickly introducing his party to the President's group, he stated that we were there to explain the rescue mission plan and to answer questions. With that, he nodded to General Vaught. In his detailed introduction of the General, he referred to him as the Task Force Commander, which he was; as an experienced and brave airborne officer, which he was; and as an old-time Green Beret, which he wasn't. I knew General Jones believed the information he gave the President, but I knew General Vaught had never served a day in his life in Special Forces. General Vaught did not correct the mistake once he stood up. Rather, he began to outline the proposed effort.
He took everyone through the rehearsal period of the Delta Force, how the Marine pilots had come into the picture, how the Air Force would perform, and his own beloved Rangers. He did really well. Obviously, he had done some hard work between his briefing to the Joint Chiefs that afternoon and this one in the White House.
General Vaught then launched into the actual plan. During this brief, Vice-President Mondale asked me for a pair of handcuffs, which we call flex cuffs; he played with these. It was a peculiar thing to do while listening to a vital brief.
General Vaught outlined all his areas of responsibility, General Gast's, and mine. He forcefully discussed the command and control of Desert Oneâthe first stop in Iran of the rescue missionâand the Manzariyeh operation which brought into play the Ranger contingent. He concluded with an outline of the medical facilities and an assessment of the probability of success.
He had occasionally been interrupted for clarification, once by Dr. Brzezinski and another time by Vice-President Mondale. I don't believe either asked a key question. More important, I felt the President tracked very well with General Vaught.
General Jones then introduced me. “Mr. President, this is Colonel Beckwith, who will be the ground force commander.”
Before I could begin, Hamilton Jordan spoke up. “Mr. President, Colonel Beckwith is a Georgian. He's from south Georgia, from Schley County.”
The President looked interested. “Oh?”
“Well, sir, I was born in Atlanta, but my folks are from Ellaville.”
The President beamed. “Well, that's right next to Plains. We must have been neighbors.”
I began my brief by walking the President through the operation from Desert One to lift-off at Manzariyeh; how Delta Force would reach, before first light, the hideout area some fifty miles outside of the capital; and how it would lie concealed all day under camouflage material.
Next, I described how six Mercedes trucks and two smaller vehicles from Teheran would arrive after sunset and transport Delta to the capital. I said I was going to go ahead at a certain point, using one of the small vehicles, to check the last part of the route through the city and eyeball the embassy.
Once the trucks arrived at the east wall, which faced Roosevelt Avenue, Delta Force would climb over it. Then a high-explosive charge would be placed to blow a hole in the wall large enough for an 18-wheeler to be driven through it. The blast would also serve the purpose of blowing out all the windows
in the surrounding neighborhood and causing confusion among the nearby Iranian population.
At this point I explained how Delta had been broken down into Red, White, and Blue. The Red and Blue elements would be the assault groups and contained forty men each; White, much smaller, would be used in support.
I described the task organization for each unit: how, once the explosive charge at the wall had been detonated, Blue would assault the DCM's residence, the Ambassador's quarters, the Mushroom, and the chancellery, freeing the hostages held in them: how Red would attack the commissary and the staff cottages to release the hostages there and to neutralize the guard posts at the motor pool and the power plant: and how, while this was being accomplished, White Element would neutralize Roosevelt Avenue and then seize and hold the soccer stadium which lay adjacent to the embassy compound.
Covered by three machine guns, two M60s and an HK21, the freed hostages, together with Red and Blue elements, would move from the compound, through the hole in the wall, and across Roosevelt Avenue to the stadium. From there they would wait until the helicopters could lift them out.
I then addressed the most troublesome part of the mission. “Mr. President, Delta Force's biggest problem is not going to be taking down the buildingsâwe've been training for two years as a counterterrorist unit. Our worry is the control and handling of the freed hostages. We intend to put yellow armbands or sweatbands on the hostages so we can identify them. We have also assigned two Delta operators to each hostage. There is no way of knowing how they will behave. Will they try to protect their guardsâthat's a syndrome common to situations where hostages have been held a long time. Will they attack the guards and acquire their weapons, and put them in peril? I would like permission to use your name, to say, âThe President of the United States has sent us.'”
The President laughed. “I'm not sure that will mean anything to them.”
Then I explained how the medics had been given the task
of counting heads at the stadium. No one would leave until all the hostages had been accounted for.
There was a chance we would lose one or two helicopters in the soccer stadium, but the backup would be sufficient to get everyone out. The first chopper should be able to carry all the hostages, but the second was a prudent precaution.
Red and Blue elements would leave next in the third helo, with White flying out last in the fourth. It was just a matter of rolling up the stick from the rear.
Once in Manzariyeh, the hostages and Delta would be met by a Ranger contingent, which would secure the airfield and protect the loading of everyone on large fixed-wing Air Force C-141 StarLifters.