ON SEPTEMBER 21, the sixth week into the U.S. deployment, Saddam’s Revolutionary Command Council issued a bellicose statement saying, “There is not a single chance for any retreat. . . . Let everybody understand that this battle is going to become the mother of all battles.”
Satellite photos and other intelligence presented to President Bush showed that Iraq was systematically dismantling Kuwait, looting the entire nation. Everything of value was being carried back to Iraq; the populace was being terrorized, starved, beaten, murdered. Kuwait would soon become a perpetual no-man’s-land, Bush was told. He could see much of it with his own eyes.
U.S. intelligence claimed that Saddam had 430,000 troops in Kuwait and southern Iraq. His forces were digging in, moving into even more defensive positions. This made an offensive attack by Saddam into Saudi Arabia less likely. In order to attack, the Iraqis would have to dig out and move into the so-called killing zones—swatches of open desert miles wide—where the United States could obliterate troops and tanks with superior airpower and Schwarzkopf’s own ground forces. Though the United States had less than half as many troops in the theater as Iraq, Cheney and Powell told Bush they now felt quite sure the U.S. and allied forces could defend Saudi Arabia.
Friday, September 28, was the Day of the Emir. Bush had the exiled emir of Kuwait, who was visiting the United States for the first time, into the Oval Office for a meeting. Scowcroft joined them for the hour-long meeting. Though the emir did not directly ask for military intervention to liberate his country, Scowcroft could see that that was his subliminal message. Bush then took the exiled leader to meet with the cabinet and later to have lunch with the cabinet members in the White House residence. That afternoon, Cheney and Powell met with the emir privately.
Afterwards Bush said that Kuwait was running out of time. It certainly wasn’t going to be around as a country if they waited for sanctions to work. The emir himself, the stories of destruction supported by intelligence reports, left an indelible mark on the President, both Cheney and Powell could see. Bush was personally moved. Iraq will fail and Kuwait will endure, Bush said.
At the same time, Powell realized that Schwarzkopf in Saudi Arabia was growing increasingly uneasy. Schwarzkopf had chewed out Kelly on the phone once when Powell had requested some information within 30 minutes. Kelly was not afraid, and had barked back that he was just conveying Powell’s order: “I didn’t give it to you, the Chairman did.” But Schwarzkopf had just about everyone else intimidated. Schwarzkopf needed to be consoled not about the hard tasks that might lie ahead but about his uncertainty as to what Washington might order. He was increasingly nervous about the scale of the Iraqi buildup and was asking questions about U.S. objectives and force levels. Though his stated military mission was still only the defense of Saudi Arabia, Schwarzkopf was aware of repeated presidential statements moving the mission close to the liberation of Kuwait.
At times brooding in his daily secure phone conversations to Powell in the Pentagon, Schwarzkopf was regularly looking for clues, or asking directly, about the next step. Were they going to hold to the defensive mission? Or were they going to build up the forces to do more?
“Norm, I’m working on it,” Powell had been telling him.
In their regular 5 p.m. meetings, Cheney and Powell spent much time on these questions.
“You know,” Powell told Cheney in early October, “we’re going to have to get a decision.” The President had to tell them whether to continue deploying forces, or to stop, well before the cut-off date of December 1, when they expected to have in place all the forces and supplies needed for the defensive mission. “When I put the last thing in the funnel, two weeks later it will come out in Saudi Arabia. We need to know when to stop putting things in the funnel.” Powell reminded Cheney that he had not participated in a full policy review or a discussion of the options and their merits.
Cheney didn’t give much of a response.
Powell started jotting down some notes. He felt that containment or strangulation was working. An extraordinary political-diplomatic coalition had been assembled, leaving Iraq without substantial allies—condemned, scorned and isolated as perhaps no country had been in modern history. Intelligence showed that economic sanctions were cutting off up to 95 percent of Saddam’s imports and nearly all his exports. Saddam was practically sealed off in Iraq and Kuwait. The impact could not be measured in weeks, Powell felt. It might take months. There would come a point a month or six weeks before Saddam was down to the last pound of rice when the sanctions would trigger some kind of a response.
Paul Wolfowitz, the undersecretary for policy, told Powell that he felt strangulation was a defensible position as long as it meant applying sanctions indefinitely. Saddam had to know he was facing strangulation forever. To adopt a policy that said, or implied, that sanctions would be in effect for one year or 18 months would give the Iraqi leader a point when he could count on relief. He would have only to tell his people to hold out another so-many months. Wolfowitz said he thought it was a hard call; probably 55 percent of the merit was for one side, 45 percent for the other.
• • •
Powell went to Cheney to outline the case for containment. He had not reduced his arguments to a formal paper; there was no memo, no plan, nothing typed up. All he had were his handwritten notes. Until they were sure sanctions and strangulation had failed, it would be very difficult to go to war, Powell said. If there was a chance that sanctions might work, there might be an obligation to continue waiting—at least to a certain point. To do something premature when there was still a chance of accomplishing the political objectives with sanctions could be a serious mistake.
“I don’t know,” Cheney responded. “I don’t think the President will buy it.” Cheney thought that containment was insufficient, and did not see any really convincing evidence that the sanctions were going to guarantee success. The President was committed to policy success. Containment could leave Kuwait in Saddam’s hands. That would constitute policy failure. It would be unacceptable to the President.
Powell wanted another dog in the fight. He was concerned that no one was laying out the alternatives to the President. Bush might not be hearing everything he needed to hear. A full slate of options should be presented. Several days later Powell went back to Cheney with an expanded presentation on containment.
“Uh—hmm,” Cheney said, noncommittal. “It certainly is another way to look at it.”
Powell next went to see Baker to talk about containment. The Secretary of State was Powell’s chief ally in the upper ranks of the administration. They thought alike on many issues. Both men preferred dealmaking to confrontation or conflict. And both worked the news media assiduously to get their points of view across and have them cast in the most favorable light. Baker was very unhappy about the talk of using or developing an offensive military option. He wanted diplomacy—meaning the State Department—to achieve the policy success. He informed Powell that he had some of his staff working on an analysis of the advantages of containment. This should force a discussion of containment within the Bush inner circle, Baker indicated, or at least it would get out publicly.
But no White House meetings or discussion followed. Powell felt that he’d sent the idea up the flagpole but no one had saluted or even commented. He could see, all too plainly, that the President was consistent and dug in, insisting that Kuwait be freed. Bush had not blinked, and frustrations were obviously mounting in the White House. After more than two months, neither the United Nations resolutions, nor diplomacy, nor economic sanctions, nor rhetoric appeared to be forcing Saddam’s hand. Powell had too often seen presidential emotions drive policy; Reagan’s personal concern for the American hostages in Lebanon had been behind the Iran-contra affair. Powell decided to go see Scowcroft in the White House.
Scowcroft indicated he was having a difficult time that Powell, as a former national security adviser, would understand. He was trying to manage and control an incredibly active President. Bush was out making statements, giving press conferences almost daily, up at dawn making calls, on the phone with one world leader after another, setting up meetings. Scowcroft found himself scrambling just to catch up. On a supposedly relaxing weekend Bush talked with or saw more people related to his job than most people did in a normal work week.
After listening sympathetically, Powell turned to the question of the next steps in the Gulf. He said he wondered about containment and strangulation, the advantages of economic sanctions.
Scowcroft knew Powell’s attitude because Cheney had hinted at it. But now Powell was indirect. He did not come out and say, in so many words, this is my position.
“The President is more and more convinced that sanctions are not going to work,” Scowcroft responded. He made it clear that he had a solid read on the President. Bush’s determination was undisguised and he had virtually foreclosed any possibility that his views could be changed.
Powell could see that Scowcroft agreed with Bush, and was strongly reinforcing the President’s inclinations. As national security adviser, it was his job. As the overseer of the administration’s entire foreign policy, he had to mirror the President. But the security adviser also had a responsibility to make sure the range of alternatives was presented.
Scowcroft was substantially more willing to go to war than Powell. War was an instrument of foreign policy in Scowcroft’s view. Powell did not disagree; he just saw that instrument much closer, less a disembodied abstraction than real men and women, faces—many of them kids’ faces—that Powell looked into on his visits to the troops. In the West Wing of the White House where Scowcroft sat, the Pentagon seemed far away, and the forces even further away. Powell knew that. He had been there.
Powell told Scowcroft that if there was an alternative to war, he wanted to make sure it was fully considered. If there were any possible way to achieve the goals without the use of force, those prospects had to be explored.
Scowcroft became impatient. The President was doing everything imaginable, he said.
Powell left. He had become increasingly disenchanted with the National Security Council procedures and meetings. Scowcroft seemed unable, or unwilling, to coordinate and make sense of all the components of the Gulf policy—military, diplomatic, public affairs, economic, the United Nations. When the principals met, Bush liked to keep everyone around the table smiling—jokes, camaraderie, the conviviality of old friends. Positions and alternatives were not completely discussed. Interruptions were common. Clear decisions rarely emerged. Often Powell and Cheney returned from these gatherings and said to each other, now what did that mean? What are we supposed to do? Frequently, they had to wait to hear the answer later from Scowcroft or the television.
The operation needed a field marshal—someone of the highest rank who was the day-to-day manager, Powell felt. The President, given his other domestic and political responsibilities, couldn’t be chief coordinator. It should be the national security adviser. Instead, Scowcroft had become the First Companion and all-purpose playmate to the President on golf, fishing and weekend outings. He was regularly failing in his larger duty to ensure that policy was carefully debated and formulated.
Sununu only added to the problem, exerting little or no control over the process as White House chief of staff.
As a result, the President was left painted into a corner by his own repeated declarations. His obvious emotional attachment to them was converting presidential remarks into hard policy. The goal now, more than ever, was the liberation of Kuwait at almost any cost.
• • •
“Why don’t you come over with me and we’ll see what the man thinks about your idea,” Cheney said to Powell on Friday. Cheney had a private Oval Office meeting scheduled with the President. It was time reserved for the key cabinet members—“the big guys,” as Powell privately referred to them. These included just Bush, a cabinet member and Sununu or Scowcroft. Normally, Powell was not included.
At the White House, Cheney and Powell went to the Oval Office to see Bush and Scowcroft. At this meeting Powell made his pitch for containment but pulled away from the brink of advocating it personally.I
• • •
Powell’s thoughts that containment had not been fully shot down by Bush were soon corrected. Within days, Scowcroft told Cheney that Bush wanted a briefing right away on what an offensive operation against Saddam’s forces in Kuwait might look like. This planning was being done by Schwarzkopf and his staff in Saudi Arabia, so Powell passed the word to Schwarzkopf to send someone to Washington.
Over the Columbus Day weekend of October 6–8, Army Chief Carl Vuono flew to Saudi Arabia to see Schwarzkopf. They’d been friends since they were teen-aged cadets together at West Point in the 1950s. Schwarzkopf had been a class ahead, but Vuono had been promoted a little faster, so on three occasions during their careers Schwarzkopf had worked for Vuono. Vuono considered Schwarzkopf one of the most difficult, stubborn and talented men in the Army.
When they went off for a private talk, Vuono could see that Schwarzkopf was upset. The CINC, all 6 foot 3, 240 pounds of him, seemed about to explode out of his desert fatigues. He was precisely halfway through the 17 weeks he’d told the President he would need to put the defensive force in place. Now Washington was beginning to talk offense. Les Aspin had said publicly that the administration was “looking more favorably on an early war option.” The New York Times had reported that the word around the Pentagon was that the offensive would begin on October 15. Worse, Powell had just told Schwarzkopf in a secure phone conversation that Bush wanted a briefing right away on what an offensive operation against Saddam’s forces in Kuwait would look like.
Schwarzkopf was furious. They had to be kidding. He was not ready to present such a plan. He had received no warning, and he didn’t want to be pushed prematurely into offensive operations. Now he was afraid some son-of-a-bitch was going to wake up some morning and say, let’s get the offense rolling. He had two more months’ work to do on defense, and he had told the President in August it would take 8 to 12 months to be ready for offense. That meant next March, but now in October they wanted an offensive plan that they could carry out right away.
Powell had told him that everyone understood it would be a preliminary plan. He gave the Central Command about 48 hours to get someone to Washington with a briefing. Schwarzkopf couldn’t leave Saudi Arabia so he would have to send a subordinate.
After listening to Schwarzkopf for four hours, Vuono felt as if he’d been through a psychotherapy session. He could see that his old friend felt very lonely and vulnerable. Vuono promised to do what he could.
On Wednesday morning, October 10, Powell received Schwarzkopf’s chief of staff, Marine Major General Robert B. Johnston, at the Pentagon. In the afternoon, Cheney, Wolfowitz, Powell, the other chiefs and Kelly went to the Tank. They were all in the most restricted group cleared for top-secret war plans. It was absolutely essential that word not leak out that the Pentagon was considering an offensive operation. It might be an invitation for Saddam to attack before the full defensive force was in place.
Johnston, a stiff, deferential, buttoned-down Marine with extensive briefing experience, began by reminding them that the Central Command had deployed its forces in accordance with the President’s deter-and-defend mission. But if the President tells us to go on the offense tomorrow, he said, here’s what we would do. Though we haven’t had a lot of time to think this through, and we’re not prepared to say in detail this is the right plan, this is our best shot at it.
The plan was broken into four phases, he explained. The first three were exclusively an air campaign, and the fourth was a ground attack.
Phase One would be an air attack on Iraqi command, control and communications, attempting to sever Saddam in Baghdad from his forces in Kuwait and southern Iraq. Simultaneously, airpower would destroy the Iraqi Air Force and air defense system. In addition, Phase One would include an air attack to destroy Iraqi chemical, biological and nuclear weapons facilities.
Phase Two would be a massive, continuous air bombardment of Iraqi supply and munitions bases, transportation facilities and roads, designed to cut off the Iraqi forces from their supplies.
Phase Three would be an air attack on the entrenched Iraqi ground forces of 430,000 men, and on the Republican Guard.
The phases would overlap somewhat. As early as a week after the beginning of the first air phase, the Phase Four ground assault would be launched on the Iraqi forces in Kuwait. One of Johnston’s slides was a map with three large arrows showing the three attack points where coalition forces would hit the Iraqis. One arrow represented U.S. Marines in an amphibious assault from the Gulf; another was the U.S. Army on the ground attacking directly into Iraqi lines; and the third was an Egyptian ground division, also going straight into enemy forces, while protecting one of the U.S. flanks.
Cheney, Powell and several of the others asked question after question. Could they count on the Egyptians to protect the American ground troops? What about back-up forces if the Iraqis counterattacked?
Powell and Vuono wanted to know if it was possible to move the U.S. forces out to the west along the Iraqi border and then come up on the Iraqi Army from the side and behind. Could the U.S. forces be repositioned fast enough so the Iraqis would not know?
The initial terrain analysis showed that the Iraqi desert was too soft and wet for the support vehicles to carry the necessary supplies, Johnston said.
Kelly was sure that the straight-up-the-middle plan briefed by Johnston was not going to cut it and would not survive a serious review. Two of the main rules of war were “Never attack the enemy’s strength” and “Go where they are not.” The plan needed mobility.
Cheney felt pretty good about the three phases of the air campaign. The planning looked detailed and complete. Even after the Dugan firing, the Air Force was basically saying they would take care of it all. Cheney didn’t believe it, but he could see airpower would have a tremendous advantage in the desert. In addition, the plans anticipated that targets missed on the first run would be hit again and again as necessary.
The Phase Four ground plan, however, looked inadequate to Cheney. The offensive U.S. Army and Marine units would be sent against a potentially larger defensive Iraqi force, depending on what remained of Saddam’s troops after the bombing. Even to a civilian like himself, Cheney reflected, it looked unwise.
Cheney remarked that many of the U.S. forces like the 18th Airborne Corps were lightly armed and might have to fight heavily armored tanks. There were no reserve forces for back-up. He also questioned whether the U.S. ground forces could be kept supplied with food, fuel and munitions for a long period.
He noted that the ground plan called for the U.S. forces to make their assault straight into the Iraqi entrenchments and barricades, the Iraqi strength. Why go right up the middle? he asked.
Johnston deflected most of the questions. The plan was preliminary, he reminded them, and the questions reflected the caveats from Schwarzkopf that were listed in the last slide. By the time Johnston reached the last slide, however, the Phase Four plan was pretty much shredded. That slide said that Schwarzkopf felt an attack now on the Iraqi force twice the size of his, even with U.S. air, naval and technological superiority, was loaded with problems. “We do not have the capability on the ground to guarantee success,” Johnston said. Schwarzkopf felt that he would need an additional Army Corps of three heavy armored divisions for a proper offensive option.
Cheney concluded that an attack with the U.S. forces now in place and based on this plan would be a risk of a high order.
Johnston said there was a window of opportunity of some six weeks, from about January 1 to February 15, when offensive action would be most desirable. After that, the weather and Muslim religious holidays would conspire to make combat more difficult. Heavy rains would begin in March and the temperatures could rise to 100 degrees or more. But they could work around the weather. It could not and should not determine their timetable, he said.
On March 17, the Muslims would start the observation of Ramadan, one month of fasting from sunrise to sunset, and in June would be the annual pilgrimage to Mecca, Johnston noted. The timing could present another complication for Arab states in the anti-Saddam coalition.
Cheney recognized that he had an obligation to present this brief to President Bush. The President needed to know exactly where Schwarzkopf was, the status of the deployment, and what might happen if offensive operations were ordered. The President, Scowcroft and Sununu at least had to be educated on the magnitude of the task. Cheney did not want to walk over to the White House one day, months down the road, to say, “Here’s the plan, bang, go.” The President had to comprehend the stakes, the costs and the risks, step by step.
By now Cheney had come to realize what an impact the Vietnam War had had on Bush. The President had internalized the lessons—send enough force to do the job and don’t tie the hands of the commanders. In a September 12 speech in California, Cheney had said, “The President belongs to what I call the ‘Don’t screw around’ school of military strategy.”
Though this perhaps was inelegantly stated, Cheney was certain that the President didn’t want to screw around. That meant a viable offensive option.
Schwarzkopf, in Saudi Arabia, was unhappy that he would not be there when the President was briefed on a subject of such paramount importance.
The next day, October 11, Johnston made the presentation to Bush at the White House. In the Situation Room, Johnston laid out the same plan. The meeting took nearly two hours. Bush was interrupted several times. He and Scowcroft had many questions on various subjects, such as minefields and weapon systems. When Johnston said Schwarzkopf would need a full corps of three additional heavy divisions to have the capability to attack on the ground, he was asked how long it would take to move that many divisions.
Two to three months to get them in place, Johnston said.
He hoped his briefing proved that the existing forces were inadequate for an offense.
Bush’s reaction was similar to Cheney’s, particularly on the Phase Four ground plan. The military was not ready for an offensive operation; they didn’t have enough strength.
What would be enough? Bush asked.
Cheney promised the President a detailed answer soon.
• • •
Bush had asked Powell to appear and speak for him at the anniversary celebration of President Eisenhower’s 100th birthday, to be held in Abilene, Kansas, that Sunday, October 14. Over the years, Powell had become a minor student of Ike. He had discovered that the great combat leader of World War II was also very much a believer in limits and restraint. Deeply suspicious of power and the military, as President he had pursued a policy of containment instead of war.
Powell worked hard on the Kansas address. He sensed a kinship with Eisenhower and aspired to be like him. This speech was from the heart. Powell said:
“General Eisenhower was no proponent of war. He was a proponent of peace. At the foot of the great statue here at the library we see the words, ‘Champion of Peace.’ And so he was.”
• • •
On Wednesday night, October 17, Bush was scheduled to attend the second game of the World Series, but he canceled to have a veal and pasta dinner alone with Scowcroft to review the Gulf crisis.
That week Cheney was on a trip to Europe and the Soviet Union to confer with allies and supporters of the U.N. resolutions against Iraq. Powell made lots of public appearances while Cheney was away—remarks to the American Stock Exchange, a short briefing on counternarcotics programs, a memorial service, a military artwork presentation, a meeting with the military aide to the president of France, a few interviews and receptions.
When a story appeared in the newspapers about Air Force Secretary Rice using an Air Force jet to attend the Air Force-Notre Dame football game at a cost of over $5,000, Powell called in one of his aides.
“What the fuck is the Air Force doing now?” he asked. Air Force officers were quoted by name contradicting each other, leaving the impression that someone had willingly spent the taxpayers’ money for a football weekend and that others were trying to cover up. “Don’t they know how to answer questions like that up there?” After raging at the Air Force some more, he finally calmed down. “I just wanted to get that off my chest.”
Powell’s Plans and Policy staff, J-5, sent him an option paper for the Gulf. J-5 was headed by Lieutenant General George Lee Butler, who was slated to be promoted to four stars and take over the Strategic Air Command. Butler outlined four possibilities: (1) maintain the status quo to deter and defend; (2) prepare for long-term containment, ratcheting up the sanctions that would have to be in place for six months to one year to be effective; (3) go to war; (4) up the ante by adding sufficient forces for a credible offensive threat.
Butler favored option two: long-term containment, with increased pressure through the sanctions. According to Butler’s analysis, a war would be very messy.
Powell listened to the summary but didn’t indicate his preference—not by so much as a lifted eyebrow, Butler noted.
Powell still wasn’t positive which way the President might go, but he had a pretty good idea. This was a political choice, it was going to be made in the White House. He felt he had to mask his conclusions on this question even from his most senior staff.
After the Johnston briefing, Cheney leaned hard on the system. He wanted the planners to move away from throwing all the forces straight through the Iraqis’ front-line barriers. He asked Powell to think about making a ground assault into Iraq somewhere far west along the Saudi-Iraq border, 300–400 miles from Kuwait, out toward the Jordanian border. Such an unexpected attack on the western approaches to Baghdad would put a ground force in a location where there would be no Iraqi fortifications or resistance, would cut the lines of communication between Baghdad and Jordan, and would allow a direct ground attack on the fixed SCUD missile sites in western Iraq that threatened Israel.
Powell quickly came back with an answer: No, it was way too far to take U.S. forces.
• • •
On Sunday, October 21, Powell left Washington for Saudi Arabia. He arrived in Riyadh late the next day and went right to Schwarzkopf.
Powell immediately saw that everyone in the command, including Schwarzkopf, was pretty raggedy. They had been deterring and defending for nearly three months. The uncertainties, risks and discomforts had been building on each other.
Schwarzkopf was still angered about the short-notice order to send Johnston to Washington with an offensive war plan that was not ready.
Orders were orders, both soldiers knew.
Powell reported that he did not have a decision from the President about the next stage—whether they would be directed to continue the current mission or prepare the offensive option.
Whatever the case, Powell said, they now had to come up with a fully scrubbed offensive plan. More important, Schwarzkopf had to state what additional forces he would need for that mission. Powell remembered that in the first days of the crisis, Schwarzkopf had told President Bush at Camp David on August 4 that it would take 8 to 12 months to build up U.S. forces to a level sufficient to push Iraq out of Kuwait. Saddam had had 100,000 troops in Kuwait then. He now had 430,000.
Powell said he needed Schwarzkopf’s wish list. He pledged to back him up.
Schwarzkopf had said in a recent Life magazine article that he was no fan of war: “In a lot of ways I am a pacifist—though that might be too strong a word. But I know what war is. I am certainly anti-war. But I also believe there are things worth fighting for.”
Frankly, he told Powell now, he was not sold on an offensive operation as the solution. Pushing Saddam out of Kuwait at this point would be dirty and bloody. “Do they know that back in Washington?”
“They know,” Powell replied.
Schwarzkopf estimated that it would take about twice the force level he had. Double the Air Force presence; double the Navy carriers from three to six; double the Marine and Army ground forces. “I want the VII Corps,” he said finally.
The VII Corps was the centerpiece of the U.S. ground defense in Europe—three of the best-trained, best-equipped divisions—two heavy tank and one mechanized. It was a stunning request, inconceivable even a year ago, before the virtual disappearance of the Warsaw Pact threat in Europe. But Gorbachev and the collapse of the Warsaw Pact made it feasible. If the President was serious about offense, Schwarzkopf said, he was going to have to send the VII Corps.
Powell said he would back the requests. He wanted to go even further. He was determined to make the buildup as massive as possible. There was an Army division based in the United States that had trained with the VII Corps. The Big Red One, the 1st Mechanized Infantry Division, would fit in nicely, Powell suggested. Schwarzkopf agreed.
Schwarzkopf’s main staff officers were summoned. Powell wanted to question them personally. He was aware of Schwarzkopf’s tendency to shoot messengers bringing bad news. Powell wanted to sit and listen patiently to see if any hidden facts bubbled to the surface, as often happened when subordinates were given a chance to talk at length. The next morning Powell met for another five hours with Schwarzkopf and his staff. The only major problem was that the mail was not being delivered to the troops as fast as it should.
Powell indicated that President Bush still had not decided; they had to prepare for possible offense and for continuing the defense. If the mission remained only defensive, Powell and Schwarzkopf agreed, some kind of rotation policy would be needed, allowing the units that had served for months to be relieved. Schwarzkopf recommended that the troops be rotated out of Saudi Arabia after serving six to eight months. Overall, he felt the buildup was working and evidence was mounting that the sanctions were beginning to bite. He counseled patience.
Powell visited some of the troops briefly. He told them: “I know you want to know the answer to two questions: What are we going to be doing here? And when are we going to go home? Because I can’t give you answers to those questions, we are giving our political leaders time to work this out. Not answering those questions gives them that time.”
Powell felt that the troops understood this point. But he was not sure how long their patience would last. Troops would fight for each other and for certain core values: national survival, the lives of American citizens. They would fight for their leaders—presidents, even generals, if the reasoning was presented clearly and honestly. Powell felt they would also fight for American interests but that could get very fuzzy. It was problematical whether they would fight for another country, such as Kuwait, or to ensure that a Saddam was not rewarded for aggression.
• • •
On Wednesday, October 24, Cheney was summoned to the White House. The administration had finally reached a budget compromise with the Democrats after a bruising and politically damaging six months, particularly the last two. Now Bush had time to focus on some of the answers to the question he had left with Cheney—how much additional force? The President said he was leaning toward adding the forces necessary to carry out offensive operations to expel Iraqi troops from Kuwait. Nothing could be announced for two weeks, until after the November 6 elections, because any move would be assumed to be an attempt to influence the elections. Cheney said that he was waiting for Powell’s report from Saudi Arabia, and they should wait.
It was apparent to Cheney that Bush would be happy with some public hint. Cheney was already scheduled the next day to go on the early morning shows of the three major networks and CNN. He felt that the White House’s inept handling of its budget talks with Congress had cast a pall over the entire administration, and raised fundamental questions about whether Bush and the cabinet knew what they were doing. It had affected Bush’s standing in the polls and the way people looked at Washington and government, even eroding confidence in the Gulf operation. Cheney also felt that it was best to prepare the public for the likely decision. He had consistently stated that there was no upper ceiling on the troop deployment and had repeatedly warned that the United States was in for the long haul.
Later that day Cheney joined Baker in giving a classified briefing to legislators in the secure room, S-407, in the Capitol. Neither dropped a hint that a reinforcement was being considered.
But in the television interviews the next morning, October 25, Cheney intentionally laid the seed. “We are not at the point yet where we want to stop adding forces,” he said on ABC. On CBS he was asked if the Pentagon was getting ready to send another 100,000 troops. Cheney replied, “It’s conceivable that we’ll end up with that big of an increase.”
He repeated this point on NBC, but added that this would not affect the relief of troops already there after six to eight months. “There clearly will be a rotation policy. . . . I would guess we’ll end up around six months.”
The big news of Cheney’s statements reached Powell, who was on a stopover in Europe. “What is going on?” he asked an aide. When it sank in, he told one person, “Goddammit, I’ll never travel again. I haven’t seen the President on this.” There had been discussions but no decision as far as he knew. But there it was in clear language from Cheney, a man who chose his words carefully.
Bush, Scowcroft and Sununu were making decisions again without a full airing of views. Powell was tired of learning of major administration decisions after the fact. Sununu had been advising and urging the President to speak out strongly and to back up his words with a military threat. He or someone else apparently had won.
One thing that could be said for Bush: he had stated consistently that the Kuwait invasion would not stand. Powell, however, felt that the economic sanctions still loomed as the large unknown. When might they work? When would they be deemed to have failed? He was eager to get back to Washington.
In Saudi Arabia, Schwarzkopf also heard Cheney’s remarks. Before his own surprise and distress could fully register, the Saudis were on the phone pounding him with questions: What is this? What’s going on? Where were the consultations before making such a decision or announcement? Schwarzkopf tried to stumble through with some answers. He was fuming. Not only did he have to learn about something this important from the media, but he had to explain it to the Saudis without any guidance from Washington.
Schwarzkopf gave a long interview to The Atlanta Journal and Constitution that week. “Now we are starting to see evidence that the sanctions are pinching,” Schwarzkopf said. “So why should we say, ‘Okay, gave ’em two months, didn’t work. Let’s get on with it and kill a whole bunch of people?’ That’s crazy. That’s crazy.” He recounted how in Vietnam the United States, unopposed in the air, would pound the villages with bombs and then go in and find the North Vietnamese coming right out of their holes fighting like devils. Schwarzkopf also said, “War is a profanity because, let’s face it, you’ve got two opposing sides trying to settle their differences by killing as many of each other as they can.”
Wolfowitz, who visited the Central Commander around this time, felt that Schwarzkopf was making these statements partly for the benefit of his troops, to make it absolutely clear that if there was a war, it would be the civilians who would be taking them there.
Schwarzkopf told Wolfowitz that he had had some discussions with Middle East experts who had convinced him that while war would be damaging to the United States in the region, a failure to go to war would be far more damaging. Schwarzkopf said he felt that a prolonged stalemate would be a victory for Saddam.
Powell arrived back in Washington, but Cheney was going off the next day to do some fishing in Wyoming with Baker. A White House meeting with the President was planned for early the following week to discuss the Gulf options.
• • •
The new Air Force Chief, General Merrill “Tony” McPeak, told Powell that if they were going to launch an offensive operation, the sooner the better for the Air Force. A 6-foot-2, rail-thin fighter pilot, McPeak, 54, said the airpower combat advantage would be at its maximum from about right now up to November 1. It would deteriorate steadily after that, he said, because Iraqi defensive preparations were reducing the U.S. combat advantage. The Iraqis were digging in deeper in the desert and organizing themselves. They had acquired some U.S. ground-to-air HAWK missiles in Kuwait that they might be able to use against U.S. planes. In addition, the weather was never going to be better.
Powell countered that the other services needed more time to increase their advantages. There was no requirement to take any unnecessary risk in this operation, Powell said. The prudent course was to double the force. The military and the President would be in serious trouble if an offense didn’t succeed.
Come on, Jesus, McPeak said, somewhat overstating his point, this is a Third World country, a little one-city country for Christ’s sake. We’re making it look like World War III. We’re going to get no style points at the end of this thing. We ought to be trying to make it look easy, instead of making it look hard. My worry is that we wait too long.
I understand, Powell said. But if we go later, you’ll still have a combat advantage, and we need the time to do some other things—principally, get the Army ready to go. Get them in there. Get them on shore and unloaded. I don’t care about style points. Too much is at stake. “We go, we win,” Powell said, summarizing his belief that he wanted to be certain.
McPeak didn’t make his arguments to Cheney or the President. He saw he was a minority of one. The other chiefs agreed with Powell.
There was unanimity on one matter, however, McPeak could see. None of the chiefs was itching for a fight. They did not want an offensive operation if there was any other honorable way out for the United States.
• • •
Over the weekend Powell was watching NBC’s Saturday Nightly News broadcast with Mary Alice Williams. She introduced a report on troop morale from Saudi Arabia.
“Relief is what they’re waiting for,” Williams said, “or a call to action.” Then reporter Arthur Kent came on, saying that “nerves are being severely strained in Saudi Arabia. . . . U.S. troops here spend most of their energy just killing time . . . many Marines told us they’re fed up with inactivity.” He said that the troops longed for home. “But home is a mirage. The days drag on. . . . There are still no clear military objectives to go after.”
“How deep does the bad morale go?” Williams asked him.
“Pretty deep,” Kent said. “Perhaps half of the troops we spoke to said they were very unhappy with the way things are going.”
What the hell are they talking about? Powell asked himself. The report had offered nothing hard. It was foolish, but it reminded him that if war came, it would be on television instantly, bringing home the action, death, consequences and emotions even more graphically than during Vietnam. The reporters and the cameras would be there to record each step, vastly complicating all military tasks. Powell was sure of one thing: a prolonged war on television could become impossible, unsupportable at home.
• • •
Several times in October, Robert Teeter, Bush’s chief pollster, talked with the President about the Gulf policy. Teeter said he thought the administration had too many messages flying around. There was a lack of focus. He suggested that Bush return to the fundamentals that he had stated in August. The two with the strongest appeal were fighting aggression and protecting the lives of Americans, including the more than 900 Americans being held hostage in Iraq and Kuwait. About 100 had been moved to Iraqi military and industrial installations to serve as “human shields” to deter an American attack.
Bush acknowledged the points, but nonetheless seemed confident. The President said that he felt he knew more than anyone about the region, and also about the diplomacy, the military, the economics and the oil. I have been dealing with these issues for 25 years, Bush said. One night he told Teeter it was important that he had served as United Nations ambassador, U.S. envoy to China, CIA director and Vice President. Those experiences allowed him to see all the pieces. Now he could put them together.
Bush described how, since taking office as President, he had been laying the groundwork, building relations with other heads of state. He’d had no specific purpose in mind, just a strategic sense that it was a good idea. Now his good working relationships with the Thatchers, Mubaraks, Fahds and Gorbachevs of the world could be put to use. There might be some rough times, some down times, Bush conceded, but he felt good. “This will be successful,” he assured Teeter.
• • •
For months Scowcroft had been concerned that Baker was not a supporter of the Gulf policy. In the inner-circle discussions he seemed to oppose the large deployment of troops, favoring a diplomatic solution almost to the exclusion of the military pressure. But Baker was coming around. Cheney was fishing with him over the weekend and they would have time to talk.
Baker felt the foundation for the Gulf policy was not solid enough. The plight of the emir of Kuwait, his people, aggression and oil were not selling to the American people. The polls showed that the greatest concern was over the American hostages in Iraq and Kuwait. Baker had argued that the focus of the Gulf policy should be shifted to the hostage issue. It was the one issue that would unite Americans and the international community because most nations, including the Soviets, had hostages held in Iraq. It was the one issue that might justify a war.
Scowcroft thought a new emphasis on the hostages would be changing horses in the middle of the stream, but he saw that public opinion polls were showing increasing doubts about the military deployment. Baker wanted to play the hostage card himself in a strong speech. Scowcroft was willing to go along. The national security adviser also realized that Baker saw the handwriting on the wall. The Bush presidency was likely to rise or fall on the outcome of the Gulf policy. Baker, Bush’s friend of 35 years, his campaign manager and the senior cabinet officer, had no other choice than to become an aggressive supporter of the policy.
On Monday, October 29, Baker addressed the Los Angeles World Affairs Council. The more than 100 American human shields, he said, “are forced to sleep on vermin-ridden concrete floors. They are kept in the dark during the day and moved only at night. They have had their meals cut to two a day. And many are becoming sick as they endure a terrible ordeal. The very idea of Americans being used as human shields is simply unconscionable.”
The Secretary of State added: “We will not rule out a possible use of force if Iraq continues to occupy Kuwait.”
• • •
Bush had 15 congressional leaders from both houses and both parties to the White House the next day, October 30. He opened the meeting with a status report, noting that Iraq had released the French hostages, but more reports of maltreatment of American and British hostages were being received. He said that he was reading Martin Gilbert’s The Second World War: A Complete History, which described the appeasement of a dictator and the sequence of events leading up to the conflict.
Visibly riled up, Bush said that he was just not going to let that happen again. The treatment of the hostages was horrible and barbarous, the President said. He described a report of one foreign hostage family that had been taken to a hospital, where the Iraqis had shot the children in front of the parents and then shot the parents.
Baker then made some supporting points about the treatment of the hostages.
House Speaker Thomas S. Foley said, Mr. President, we’re with you to this point. He hoped there would be more such meetings and consultations in advance of any military action in the Gulf.
Barring some event that required quick action, Bush said, he would continue consulting.
Has there been more maltreatment of the hostages? Senate Majority Leader George Mitchell asked. The Congress didn’t know about that. It was not documented.
Isn’t deprivation of liberty maltreatment? Baker asked indignantly.
It certainly is, Mitchell responded, but the question is whether there has been an escalation of the maltreatment as the President suggested.
Senator William Cohen, the vice chairman of the Senate Intelligence Committee, raised his hand. He said that the CIA and DIA had testified in the committee last week that there was no new evidence of more maltreatment.
Baker, unused to being challenged, lit up and turned several shades of red. He asked what the group considered maltreatment. Was not kidnapping and murder sufficient?
Yes, Cohen and Mitchell agreed. But the hostage taking was nearly three months old. Is this new? Is this considered a provocation by Saddam?
The questioning zeroed in. Several Democrats suggested pointedly that this new focus on the American hostages had a bad aroma. Was it going to be used as justification for military action now? It would not withstand outside scrutiny, they suggested.
Cohen said the administration might be so concerned for the hostages that it might wind up eliminating their maltreatment permanently by getting them killed. He had never seen emotions—including his own—quite so high in a White House meeting.
Bush shifted the discussion to the situation of the U.S. Embassy in Kuwait City where a few U.S. diplomats remained. The Iraqis were denying them food and water. He had no way to use the military effectively to protect them without a full-scale invasion, he said. And what would it mean if the American flag were lowered and the U.S. diplomats also made “guests,” Saddam’s term for the hostages? I will not sit still for it, the President said, tension showing in the muscles of his neck.
Representative Les Aspin estimated that it would take some ten months for the sanctions to work.
Representative John P. Murtha, a hawkish Democrat from Pennsylvania, said he supported the President strongly, adding that there might be no choice but to go in militarily, and as far as he was concerned the sooner the better.
Afterwards, Cohen went up to Cheney, who had said nothing during the meeting. “You managed to duck this one,” Cohen said lightly. “We’ll be coming back to you on what options are being considered.”
Cheney smiled and left.
• • •
At 3:30 that afternoon, Bush met with Baker, Cheney, Scowcroft and Powell in the Situation Room.
“We are at a ‘Y’ in the road,” Scowcroft began. The policy could continue to be deter-and-defend, or it could switch to developing the offensive option.
Powell was struck once again by the informality of the rolling discussion among these five men who had been friends for years. There was no real organization to the proceedings as they weighed the options. Ideas bounced back and forth as one thought or another occurred to one of them. Bush and Scowcroft seemed primed to go ahead with the development of the offensive option. Baker, less anxious and more cautious, was measured, inquiring about the attitudes in Congress and in the public, but he was no longer reluctant.
Listening, Cheney saw no willingness on Bush’s part to accept anything less than the fulfillment of his stated objective, the liberation of Kuwait. The Secretary of Defense was not going to recommend any military action unless they were sure of success. He said that he had a growing conviction that they had to develop the offensive option. The international coalition was too fragile to hold out indefinitely—to outsiders it might look different, but they knew, from the inside, that the arrangements were delicate. Cheney felt it was quite likely that some outside event could absolutely shatter the coalition.
Powell saw that patience was not the order of the day. As in the past, he did not advocate containment. Powell had found the others previously tolerated his broad political advice, but now he sensed that he had less permission to speak up, having already made the case for containment to the President. Now no one was soliciting Powell’s overall political advice on this subject.
The meeting had been billed in advance as a chance for the Chairman to report on his discussions with Schwarzkopf.
“Okay, okay, okay,” the President finally said, “let’s hear what he has to say.”
“Mr. President,” Powell began, “we have accomplished the mission assigned.” The defense of Saudi Arabia had been achieved earlier than expected. He described how Schwarzkopf had moved some of his forces around to accomplish this in light of the continuing Iraqi buildup.
“Now, if you, Mr. President, decide to build up—go for an offensive option—this is what we need.” He then unveiled the Schwarzkopf request to double the force. A central feature was the VII Corps so Schwarzkopf would have the high-speed tanks to conduct flanking attacks on the Iraqis. In this way, they could avoid a frontal assault into Iraqi strength.
Scowcroft was amazed that Schwarzkopf wanted so much more. The request for three aircraft carriers in addition to the three he already had especially surprised Scowcroft. Several oohs and ahs were heard around the table, but not from Bush.
Powell said he supported Schwarzkopf’s recommendations, if the President wanted an offensive option. He turned to the President. “If you give me more time, say three months, I’ll move more troops. It’s that important. You can take me to the Savings and Loan bailout account, and we’ll all go broke together.” Powell’s message: it was going to be expensive.
As far as Powell was concerned, the only constraint was going to be the capacity of the transportation system.
Cheney said he supported Schwarzkopf and Powell without conditions. He went even further. It was not a question if the President wanted the offensive option; the President should want it and should go ahead and order it, Cheney said. He explained that this would guarantee success if they had to fight. He did not want to be in the position of making another request for more forces come January or February. Saddam was fully capable of responding with more of his own forces. Cheney did not want to be back here in the Situation Room saying then, “Mr. President, I know what we told you back in October, and we put the additional force over there, but we still can’t do it.”
Finally, Bush said, “If that’s what you need, we’ll do it.”
The President gave the final approval the next day.
• • •
Paul Wolfowitz, who as undersecretary for policy was one of few Pentagon civilians granted oversight of war plans, was worried that the administration had transitioned into the decision on the offensive option without a lot of clear thought. There was little or no process where alternatives and implications were written down so they could be systematically weighed and argued. Wolfowitz, a scholarly senior career government official and former ambassador, thought it would have been possible to decide to send additional troops and not say specifically whether they were replacements or an offensive reinforcement. The decision as to their ultimate purpose could be made later. But Wolfowitz didn’t have time to get the idea considered.
The deputies committee, the second-tier interagency group that included Wolfowitz, had not met on the subject.
Wolfowitz felt that the inner circle of Bush, Baker, Cheney, Scowcroft and Powell was perhaps a little too close knit. Their meetings, given their frequency and privacy, ought to have been the forum for discussing and debating alternatives and fundamentals. But Wolfowitz did not get that sense. There was no feedback from Cheney, and if there was any kind of organized debate within the inner circle, it was done without benefit of staff. At times Wolfowitz felt he was out in the deep darkness on vital questions.
Wolfowitz was also worried that the announcement of this very big decision would be flubbed. The whole administration, Bush in particular, disliked explaining itself in an organized, coherent way. Bush just didn’t like to give speeches and the White House speechwriters didn’t write very good ones.
Baker for his part was worried about the allies. What did they think about whether to use force—or when or how? What was their resolve? Did they fully understand President Bush’s determination to roll back the invasion? It was agreed that Baker would visit Saudi Arabia, Egypt, Turkey, London, Paris and Moscow so all the soundings could be made before the announcement on doubling the force was made.
• • •
Saturday, November 3, the day Baker was leaving, Powell picked up his New York Times. Under the headline, “Baker Seen as a Balance to Bush on Crisis in Gulf,” Powell read that unnamed senior administration officials were saying that Baker “has been a brake on any immediate impulse to use military force. . . . When the issue was how much time was needed to give the sanctions an opportunity to work, Mr. Baker advised more time rather than less.”
Though hedged and qualified, the story at least put the issue of a policy debate out in the open. Powell thought to himself: Hey, look at this, I’m off the hook.
But the story’s substance—a brake on the President, containment, more time for economic sanctions—had no second bounce. There was no serious discussion or comment on it. The only comment Powell heard was that Baker and his aides had put out another self-serving story to distance the Secretary of State carefully from a possible disaster.
Scowcroft saw the story as a classic piece of State Department spin. But it was about a week late. Baker was now on board.
I. Described in the Prologue, pp. 41–42.