Chapters (25)
- Title Page
- Dedication
- Introduction
- I - Into the Wild Blue
- Chapter 1 - Every Man a Tiger
- Chapter 2 - The Big Lie
- Chapter 3 - The Vision of Bill Creech
- II - Shield in the Sky
- Chapter 4 - Mission to Jeddah
- Chapter 5 - CENTCOM Forward
- Chapter 6 - Planning the Storm
- Chapter 7 - Band of Brothers and Sisters
- III - The Thousand-Hour War
- Chapter 8 - Storm!
- Chapter 9 - Hits and Misses
- Chapter 10 - Lost and Found
- Chapter 11 - Punch and Counterpunch
- Chapter 12 - A Day in the War
- Chapter 13 - The Ten Percent War
- Chapter 14 - Shock and Awe
- Chapter 15 - Building Coalitions
- Chapter 16 - Beyond Iraqi Freedom
- Acknowledgements
- BIBLIOGRAPHY
- INDEX
My PA, Major Oscar Seara, is with me. At 1645, he steers the lady to the gate and me to the Airlift TACC tent, closer to the building. Here the camera and mikes are set up, and I meet ABC’s Sam Donaldson (or someone of that ilk). This is a love-in. The war is going well, and they need about three minutes with me on camera so they can give their audience an orgasm. The lady reporter had asked some difficult questions because she had done her homework and wanted to write an insightful piece. How can you get real information from two-minute TV slices? On the other hand, the TV reporter is real good at stroking people’s egos, and I like having mine stroked in front of millions of people.
★ 1730 I finally get out of there and reenter the RSAF headquarters at the door near the mosque. The turnout is better than it had been this morning. The wail of the prayers and the sun dropping low in the horizon put me in an oriental mood, so I guess it’s time to drop in on Behery. I visit him at his office because this honors him, it’s a nicer place than mine, and his staff will serve gaua and tea.
Anytime we are together, I do my best to pick his brain about today’s problems and crises. I want to know his thoughts about how things are going and what we ought to do. But he is operating on a very different plane. He wants to give me instruction about his land, his culture, his religion, and his people. His words are often about the tenth century, and I am thinking in the twentieth. And yet this is not wasted time.
Even though our backgrounds are vastly different, we have a real and very deep friendship. It’s hard to find words to describe it. In many ways, I guess, I look up to him much like an older brother. He is always courteous, always thoughtful, yet sometimes he is wary of Americans, especially of our willingness to move mountains no matter who lives in their shadow. He is thoughtful, where I am anxious to get going. He weighs risks, where I look for opportunities. He thinks about consequences, where I don’t often give a damn.