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"Authenticate Whiskey Sierra," demanded Saratoga.
"Authentication is Oscar Quebec," Halman answered
promptly, after consulting a list at his elbow.
"Roger, Rockstar," said Saratoga at 1209*Z. "Authentication is
correct. I roger your message. I am standing by for further
traffic."
Saratoga relayed Liberty's call for help to Admiral McCain in
London for action and, inexplicably, only for information to
Vice Admiral Martin and to Rear Admiral Geis (who commanded
the Sixth Fleet carrier force).
Several minutes later, having heard nothing from COMSIXTHFLT,
the Liberty operator renewed his call for help.
"Schematic, this is Rockstar. We are still under attack by
unidentified jet aircraft and require immediate assistance."
TOP
"Roger, Rockstar," said Saratoga. "We are forwarding your
message." Then Saratoga added, quite unnecessarily and almost
as an afterthought, "Authenticate Oscar Delta."
The authentication list now lay in ashes a few feet away.
Someone had destroyed it along with the unneeded classified
material. Frustrated and angry, the operator held the button
open on his microphone as he begged, "Listen to the goddamned
rockets, you son of a bitch!"
"Roger, Rockstar, we'll accept that," came the reply.'
Operators in the Sixth Fleet flagship Little Rock and in the
carrier America, meanwhile, had long since received Liberty's
message. America's Captain Donald Engen was talking with NBC
newsman Robert Goralski when the message was brought to the
bridge. "This is confidential, Mr. Goralski!" Engen snapped.
And Goralski respected the warning.
TOP
Aircraft-carrier sailors know that certain airplanes are
always spotted near the catapults where they are kept fueled,
armed and ready to fly. They are maintained by special crews,
they are flown by carefully selected pilots, and they are kept
under special guard at all times. These are the "ready"
aircraft. To visitors, they are almost indistinguishable from
other aircraft, but they are very special aircraft indeed, and
their use is an ominous sign of trouble. They carry nuclear
weapons.
No one in government has acknowledged that ready aircraft were
sent toward Liberty, and no messages or logs have been
unearthed to prove that nuclear-armed aircraft were launched;
moreover, there is no indication that release of nuclear
weapons was authorized under any circumstances, on that ready
aircraft, which normally carry nuclear weapons, were launched
toward Liberty, and that the Pentagon reacted to the launch
with anger bordering on hysteria. Widely separated sources
have described the launch and subsequent recall of those
aircraft in detail, and the circumstances are compelling.
According to a chief petty officer aboard USS America, the
pilots were given their orders over a private intercom system
as they sat in their cockpits. A United States ship was under
attack, they were told, and they were given the ship's
position. Their mission was to protect the ship. Under no
circumstances were they to approach the beach.
Two nuclear-armed F-4 Phantom jets left America's catapults
and headed almost straight up, afterburners roaring. Then two
more became airborne to rendezvous with the first two, and
together the four powerful jets turned toward Liberty, making
a noise like thunder. All this activity blended so completely
into the shipboard routine that few of the newsmen suspected
that anything was awry; those who asked were told that this
was a routine training flight.
TOP
"Help is on the way!"'
This short message was received by a Liberty radioman and
quickly passed to nearly every man aboard. Messengers ran
through the ship, calling, "They're coming! Help is coming!"
Litter carriers and telephone talkers passed the word along. I
remembered Philip's warning of the night before: "We probably
wouldn't even last long enough for our jets to make the trip."
Meanwhile, Navy radio operators at the Naval Communications
Station in Morocco worked to establish communications for the
emergency. Lieutenant James Rogers and the station commander,
Captain Lowel Darby, came immediately to the radio room, where
Petty Officer Julian "Tony" Hart quickly set up several
circuits, including voice circuits with the aircraft carriers
and COMSIXTHFLT, and established a Teletype circuit with
CINCUSNAVEUR in London. When the men tuned to the high-command
voice network, they could hear USS Liberty, her operators
still pleading for help, and in the background the exploding
rockets.
A Flash precedence Teletype message from COMSIXTHFLT coursed
quickly through the Morocco communication relay station,
destined for the Pentagon, State Department and the White
House:
USS LIBERTY REPORTS UNDER ATTACK BY UNIDENTIFIED JET AIRCRAFT.
HAVE LAUNCHED STRIKE AIRCRAFT TO DEFEND SHIP. It seemed only
seconds later that a new voice radio circuit was patched into
the room that was now becoming a nerve center for Liberty
communications. This was a high-command Pentagon circuit
manned by a Navy warrant officer, but once contact was
established the voice on the circuit changed. Every man in the
room recognized the new voice as that of the Secretary of
Defense, Robert S. McNamara, and he spoke with authority:
"Tell Sixth Fleet to get those aircraft back immediately," he
barked, "and give me a status report."
TOP
A few minutes later the Chief of Naval operations himself came
on the air. The circuit was patched through to the Sixth Fleet
flagship, and Admiral David L. McDonald bellowed: "You get
those fucking airplanes back on deck, and you get them back
now!"
"Jesus, he talks just like a sailor," said one of the sailors
listening on a monitor speaker at Morocco.
Soon four frustrated F-4 Phantom fighter pilots returned from
what might have been a history-making mission. They might have
saved the ship, or they might have initiated the ultimate
holocaust; their return, like their departure, blended
smoothly into the ship's routine and raised no questions from
the reporters who watched.
Another Flash message moved through the Morocco Teletype relay
station: HAVE RECOVERED STRIKE AIRCRAFT. LIBERTY STATUS
UNKNOWN. At about the same time, Hart relayed the same message
to the Pentagon by voice radio. Liberty was silent now. No one
at Morocco knew whether the ship was afloat or not, but they
knew that if she still needed help she would have a long
wait.'
TOP
Mclnturff returned to the bridge to find Lieutenant Commander
Philip Armstrong, wounded but coherent and strong, sprawled on
the floor of the chart house. His trousers had been removed to
reveal grave damage to both legs just below the level of his
boxer shorts. Two broken legs kept him off his feet, but he
remained in control.
"No more stretchers, Commander," Mclnturff advised, still
winded from his journey with me. "We'll have to take you down
in this blanket."
"No, get a stretcher!" Phillip insisted.
"No more stretchers," McInturff repeated as he laid the
blanket next to Philip, ready to roll him onto it.
"I'm not going anywhere in any goddamned blanket. Go get a
stretcher!"
"But sir, I . . ."
"Go! I know there are enough stretchers on this ship!"
"Yes sir."
Certain that every stretcher had a man in it, usually a man
too badly injured to be moved, Mclnturff raced through the
ship, frantically searching for the required stretcher. He
opened a door to the main deck, remembering that he had once
seen some stretchers stowed near a life-raft rack. A cluster
of rockets crashed to deck around him with a deafening roar,
showering the area with sparks. Shaken but not slowed,
Mclnturff knew only that he must find that stretcher and get
it back to the XO in the chart house. Finally, precious
platform in hand, he struggled back toward the sick and
impatient executive officer. Up ladders, around corners,
tripping over discarded CO, bottles and the near-solid mass of
fire hoses covering the last ladder to the bridge, he arrived
again in the pilothouse to find Philip Armstrong waiting not
too patiently on the deck of the chart house. Although the
battle still raged outside, one-sided as it was, although the
ship was still being hammered every few seconds with aircraft
rockets, Philip was not involved and he was furious about it.
He wanted desperately to be on the bridge. He wanted to fight.
If he could do nothing more, he would throw rocks and shake
his fist at the pilots as they hurtled past. But Philip was
rooted to two beanbags and could only lie there and rage.
Someone gave him a cigarette and he turned it into a red
cinder almost in one long drag. He asked for another.
TOP
He didn't complain as he was lifted, rudely, painfully, onto
the chicken-wire bed. He muttered something as the two sailors
lifted the stretcher and started away with him, but Mclnturff
didn't understand as all voices were drowned out by exploding
rockets. Mclnturff dreaded another trip down that treacherous
ladder. He was afraid he would slip on the fire hoses,
dropping the XO and blocking the ladder. He was exhausted. His
heart pounded loudly in his chest, complaining of the exertion
until he thought it must rebel; but he had no time to think,
certainly not to rest. With Philip and his stretcher nearly on
end, Philip's fingers clawing the pipe frame to keep from
abusing the fractures, they made the left turn at the bottom
of the steep ladder, passed through the narrow door, and found
themselves in a passageway next to the captain's open cabin
door.
"Put me down!" Philip ordered.
"But-"
"Put me down!"
"Sir, I-"
"Get me a life jacket!" Philip demanded loudly.
"But, sir, they're still shooting and-" "Goddamn it, get me a
life jacket!" Philip insisted. "I'm not moving from here until
I have a life jacket."
An unusually heavy barrage hit the ship. Mclnturff pushed the
XO's stretcher to relative safety against a bulkhead, and
ducked into the burning, smoke-filled captain's cabin. Quickly
driven out by the arrival of still more rockets, he heard
Philip demand, more firmly: "Damn it! I told you to get a life
jacket!"
TOP
"Jesus! There's shit comin' in everywhere, Commander!" he
pleaded as an explosion tore open a nearby door, but Philip
still insisted upon having a life jacket.
Disbelieving, Mclnturff obediently left Philip in the care of
his partner while he made another desperate trip through the
ship, searching wildly for the required life jacket. Finally,
he located a discarded jacket in the CPO lounge emergency
battle dressing station and forced himself back to where he
had left the XO.
Gone! He was gone. During the insane search for a life jacket,
someone had taken the XO below. Certain that his heart would
burst, Mclnturff struggled back up the ladder, back to the
carnage in the pilothouse, to retrieve more wounded.
Most of the wounded had been removed from the bridge. It was
possible once again to walk across the pilothouse.
Quartermaster Brown stood at the helm. Captain McGonagle,
suffering from shrapnel in his right leg and weakened by loss
of blood, remained in firm control of his ship as he directed
damage control and firefighting efforts. Ensign David Lucas,
the ship's deck division officer, had been "captured" by the
captain to serve as his assistant on the bridge. Now Lucas
wondered if he would ever see the baby girl born to his wife a
few hours after Liberty sailed from Norfolk. He quickly pushed
such thoughts from his mind; three motor torpedo boats were
sighted approaching the ship at high speed in an attack
formation.
TOP
McGonagle dispatched Seaman Apprentice Dale Larkins to take
the torpedo boats under fire from the forecastle. Larkins was
an apprentice not because he was new to the sea, but because,
for reasons of his own, he had refused to take the examination
for advancement. He was a large man and a tough fighter. He
had already been driven first from Mount 54, then from Mount
53. Now he charged down the ladder and across the open deck to
take the boats under fire from Mount 51.
Captain McGonagle, looking through the smoke of the motor
whaleboat fire, saw a flashing light on the center boat. He
called for the gunners to hold their fire while he attempted
to communicate with the boats using a hand-held Aldus lamp.
The tiny signaling device was useless. It could not penetrate
the smoke surrounding the bridge.
Larkins, who had not heard McGonagle's "hold fire" order,
suddenly released a wild and ineffective burst of machine-gun
fire and was quickly silenced by the captain. Immediately, the
gun mount astern of the bridge opened fire, blanketing the
center boat. McGonagle called for that gunner, too, to cease
fire, but he could not be heard above the roar of the gun and
the loud crackle of flaming napalm. Although less than twenty
feet apart, McGonagle was separated from the gun by a wall of
flame. Lucas ran through the pilothouse and around a catwalk,
trying to reach the gun. Finally, when he could see over a
skylight and into the gun tub, he found no gunner. The gun
mount was burning with napalm, causing the ammunition to cook
off by itself. The mount was empty.
TOP
Heavy machine-gun fire from the boats saturated the bridge. A
single hardened steel, armor-piercing bullet penetrated the
chart house, skimmed under the Loran receiver, destroyed an
office paper punch machine, and passed through an open door
into the pilothouse with just enough remaining force to bury
half its length in the back of the neck of brave young
helmsman Quartermaster Francis Brown, who died instantly.
Ensign Lucas, seeing Brown fall and not knowing what had hit
him or from which direction it had come, stepped up to take
his place at the helm.
A torpedo was spotted. It passed astern, missing the ship by
barely seventy- five feet.
--END OF CHAPTER SIX--
FOOTNOTES:
1. This story first came to me from an enlisted crewmember of
the submarine, who blurted it out impulsively in the cafeteria
at Portsmouth Naval Hospital a few weeks after the attack. The
report seemed to explain the marks I had seen on the chart in
the coordination center, as well as reports of periscope
sightings that circulated in the ship on the day of the
attack. Since the attack, three persons in positions to know
have confirmed the story that a submarine operated near
Liberty, although no credible person has confirmed the report
that photographs were taken.
TOP
2. The jet aircraft that initiated the attack were Dassault
Mirage Ill single-seat long-range 1,460mph (Mach 2.2)
fighter-bombers similar to those seen during the morning.
Mirages carry 30mm cannon in the fuselage and thirty-six
rockets under the wings. The follow-up jet attack was
conducted by Dassault MD-452 Mystyre IV-A single-seat 695mph
(Mach 0.9 1) jet interceptors. Mystyres typically carry two
30mm cannon, fifty-five rockets, and napalm canisters. None of
the attacking aircraft was identified as to either type or
nationality until much later, when comparison was made with
standard warplane photographs.
3. See Appendix B. Liberty appealed for help commencing 1158Z
(1358 ship's time) and continuing for more than two hours,
remaining silent only when the ship was without electrical
power. At 140*OZ, two hours after the commencement of the
attack, Liberty Radioman Joe Ward transmitted: "Flash, flash,
flash. I pass in the blind. We are under attack by aircraft
and high-speed surface craft. I say again, Flash, flash,
flash. We are under attack by aircraft and high-speed surface
craft." At 1405Z (1605 ship's time) Ward came on the air again
to say, "Request immediate assistance. Torpedo hit starboard
side." These times are important, as Liberty was under fire
unit 1315Z, was confronted by hostile forces until 1432Z, and
was in urgent need of assistance the entire time.
4. Saratoga misidentified the ship as USNS Liberty. USNS ships
are civilian- manned and operate under contract with the Navy;
USS ships are manned by American sailors and are commissioned
by the United States.
5. Rear Admiral Lawrence Raymond Geis: naval aviator; born
1916; U.S. Naval Academy, class of 1939 promoted to rear
admiral July 1, 1965 was commanding officer, USS Forrestal (CVA
59) 1962-63 would be assigned to duty in September 1968 as
Chief of Naval Information. The Office of Naval Information
has long played a leading role in the cover-up of the USS
Liberty story.
TOP
6. Saratoga's repeated demand for authentication, coupled with
errors and possible delay in forwarding Liberty's messages,
contributed to confusion at CINCUSNAVEUR headquarters.
Liberty's first appeal for help, received by Saratoga at
1209Z, was forwarded at immediate precedence to CINCUSNAVEUR
headquarters. Immediate precedence, however, is entirely
inadequate as a speed-of-handling indicator for enemy contact
reports; more than 30 percent of the messages glutting the
communication system are Immediate precedence or higher.
Liberty's second appeal was appropriately forwarded at the
much faster Flash precedence, overtaking the initial report to
arrive at CINCUSNAVEUR at 1247Z with the damning notation that
it was not authenticated. Thus the first Teletype report of
Liberty's attack arrived in London with the misleading caveat
that the transmission could be a hoax. The earlier report,
arriving eight minutes later, failed to mention that Liberty's
initial transmission was authenticated. Not until 1438Z, as
the attack ended and Israel apologized, did CINCUSNAVEUR learn
from Saratoga (USS Saratoga message 081358Z June 1967) that
the initial report was indeed authenticated.
7. Captain Donald Davenport Engen: naval aviator; born 1924;
first commissioned 1943; University of California at Los
Angeles, class of 1948; holds nation's second-highest award
for bravery, the Navy Cross. Would be promoted to rear admiral
in 1970 and to vice admiral in 1977.
8. COMSIXTHFLT message 081305Z June 1967 (Appendix C, page
236) promises: SENDING AIRCRAFT T0 COVER YOU. This message,
released on the flagship about fifty-five minutes after
Liberty's first call for help, was not the first such message.
Liberty crewmen, including the writer, recall reports of help
on the way at about 122OZ while the ship was still under air
attack.
TOP
9. Months later Hart was visited by an agent of the Naval
Investigative Service--armed with notebook and tape
recorder--who sought to "debrief' him on the events of June 8;
that is, to record for the record everything that Hart could
recall of the attack and the communications surrounding it.
Hart refused to discuss the attack and the man went away. Hart
never heard from him again. |
