First Among Equals

“Very little has changed in the last hour, sir,” he began. “The Prime Minister’s office has still had no success in contacting Colonel Gaddafi. I fear we must now treat the capture of Broadsword as a blatant act of terrorism, rather similar to the occupation seven years ago of the American Embassy in Iran by students who backed the late Ayatollah Khomeini. In such circumstances we can either ‘jaw-jaw or war-war,’ to quote Churchill. With that in mind, this committee will have formed a detailed plan by the early evening for the recapture of HMS Broadsword, as we assume the Foreign Office are better qualified to prepare for jaw-jaw.” Sir John replaced his glasses and looked toward his minister.

“Are you in a position to give me a provisional plan which I could place in front of the Cabinet for their consideration?”

“Certainly, Minister,” said Sir John, removing his glasses again before opening a large blue file in front of him.

Simon listened intently as Sir John went over his provisional strategy. Around the table sat eight of the senior ranking staff officers of the Army, Navy, and Air Force, and even the first draft plan bore the stamp of their 300 years of military experience. He couldn’t help remembering that his call-up status was still that of a Second Lieutenant. For an hour he asked the Joint Chiefs questions that ranged from the elementary to ones that demonstrated a clear insight into their problems. By the time Simon left the room to attend the Cabinet meeting at No. 10 the Joint Chiefs were already updating their plan.

Simon walked slowly across Whitehall from the Department of Defense to Downing Street, his private detective by his side. Downing Street was thronged with people curious to see the comings and goings of ministers involved in the crisis. Simon was touched that the crowd applauded him all the way to the front door of No. 10, where the journalists and TV crews awaited each arrival. The great television arc lights were switched on as he reached the door and a microphone was thrust in front of him, but he made no comment. Simon was surprised by how many of the normally cynical journalists called out, “Good luck” and “Bring our boys home.”

The front door opened and he went straight through to the corridor outside the Cabinet room, where twenty-two of his colleagues were already waiting. A moment later the Prime Minister walked into the Cabinet room and took her seat in the center of the table with Charles and Simon opposite her.

Mrs. Thatcher began by telling her colleagues that she had been unable to make any contact with Colonel Gaddafi and that they must therefore decide on a course of action that did not involve his acquiescence. She invited the Foreign Secretary to brief the Cabinet first.

Charles went over the actions in which the Foreign Office was involved at the diplomatic level. He reported his meeting with Ambassador Kadir, and the resolution which had been tabled at the UN and was already being debated at an emergency session of the General Assembly. The purpose of asking the United Nations to back Britain on Resolution 12/40, he said, was to gain the diplomatic initiative and virtually guarantee international sympathy. Charles went on to tell the Cabinet that he expected a vote to take place in the General Assembly in New York that evening which would demonstrate overwhelming support for the United Kingdom’s resolution, and which would be regarded as a moral victory b

y the whole world. He was delighted to be able to report to the Cabinet that the Foreign Ministers of both the United States and Russia had agreed to back the UK in her diplomatic endeavors as long as she launched no retaliatory action. Charles ended by reminding his colleagues of the importance of treating the whole affair as an act of piracy, rather than an injury at the hands of the Libyan Government itself.

A legal nicety, thought Simon as he watched the faces of his colleagues round the table. They were obviously impressed that Charles had brought the two super powers together in support of Britain. The Prime Minister’s face remained inscrutable. She called upon Simon to air his views.

He was able to report that Broadsword had, since the last meeting of the Cabinet, been towed into the Bay of Surt and moored; there was no hope of boarding her except by sea. Captain Packard and his crew of 216 remained under close arrest in the engine room on the lower deck of the ship. From confirmed reports Simon had received in the last hour it appeared that the ship’s company were bound, gagged, and that the ventilation systems had been turned off. “Captain Packard,” he informed the House, “had refused to cooperate with the guerillas in any way, and we remain unsure of his fate.” He paused. “I therefore suggest,” Simon continued, “that we have no choice but to mount a rescue operation in order to avoid a protracted negotiation that can only end in grave loss of morale for the entire armed forces. The longer we put off such a decision the harder our task will become. The Joint Chiefs are putting the final touches to a plan code-named ‘Shoplifter’ which they feel must be carried out in the next forty-eight hours, if the men and the ship are to be saved.” Simon added that he hoped diplomatic channels would be kept open while the operation was being worked out, in order that the rescue team could be assured of the greatest element of surprise.

“But what if your plan fails?” interrupted Charles. “We would risk losing not only Broadsword and her crew but also the goodwill of the free world.”

“There is no serving officer in the British Navy who will thank us for leaving Broadsword in Libyan waters while we negotiate a settlement in which, at best, our ship will be returned when it suits the guerillas-to say nothing of the humiliation of our Navy. Gaddafi can laugh at the United Nations while he has captured not only one of our most modern frigates but also the headlines of the world’s press. As Ayatollah Khomeini did, he will want to keep them both for as long as he can. These headlines can only demoralize our countrymen and invite the sort of election defeat Carter suffered at the hands of the American people after the Iranian Embassy debacle.”

“We would be foolish to take such an unnecessary risk while we have world opinion on our side,” protested Charles. “Let us at least wait a few more days.”

“I fear that if we wait,” said Simon, “the crew will be transferred from the ship to a military prison, which would only result in our having two targets to concentrate on, and then Gaddafi can sit around in the desert taking whatever amount of time suits him.”

Simon and Charles weighed argument against counterargument while the Prime Minister listened, taking note of the views of her other colleagues round the table to see if she had a majority for one course or the other. Three hours later, when everyone had given his opinion, she had “fourteen-nine” written on the pad in front of her.

“I think we have exhausted the arguments, gentlemen,” she said, “and having listened to the collective views around this table I feel we must on balance allow the Secretary of State for Defense to proceed with Operation Shoplifter. I therefore propose that the Foreign Secretary, the Defense Secretary, the Attorney General, and myself make up a sub-committee, backed up by a professional staff, to consider the Joint Chiefs’ plan. The utmost secrecy will be required from us at all times, so the subject will not be raised again until the plan is ready for presentation to a full meeting of the Cabinet. Therefore, with the exception of the sub-committee, all ministers will return to their departments and carry on with their normal duties. We must not lose sight of the fact that the country still has to be governed. Thank you, gentlemen.” The Prime Minister asked Charles and Simon to join her in the study.

As soon as the door was closed she said to Charles, “Please let me know the moment you hear the result of the vote in the General Assembly. Now that the Cabinet has favored a military initiative, it is important that you are seen to be pressing for a diplomatic solution.”

“Yes, Prime Minister,” said Charles without emotion.

Mrs. Thatcher then turned to Simon. “When can I have a rundown on the details of the Joint Chiefs’ plan?”

“We anticipate working on the strategy through the night, Prime Minister, and I should be able to make a full presentation to you by ten tomorrow.”

“No later, Simon,” said the Prime Minister. “Now our next problem is tomorrow’s proposed emergency debate. Andrew Fraser will undoubtedly put in a second request for a full debate under standing order number ten and the Speaker gave a clear hint today he will allow it. Anyway, we can’t avoid making a policy statement without an outcry from the Opposition benches—and I suspect our own––so I’ve decided that we will grasp the nettle and no doubt get stung.”

The two men looked at each other, exasperated at the thought of having to waste precious hours in the Commons.

“Charles, you must be prepared to open the debate for the Government, and Simon, you will wind up. At least the debate will be on Thursday afternoon; that way some of our colleagues may have gone home for the weekend, though frankly I doubt it. But with any luck we will have secured a moral victory at the United Nations, and we can keep the Opposition minds concentrating on that. When you sum up, Simon, just answer the questions put during the debate without offering any new initiative.”

She then added, “Report any news you hear direct to me. I shan’t be sleeping tonight.”

Charles walked back to the Foreign Office, at least thankful that Amanda was somewhere in South America.

Simon returned to the Joint Chiefs to find a large map of Libyan territorial waters pinned to a blackboard. Generals, admirals, and air marshals were studying the contours and ocean depths like children preparing for a geography test.

They all stood again when Simon entered the room. They looked at him in anticipation, men of action who were suspicious of talk. When Simon told them the Cabinet’s decision was to back the Ministry of Defense the suggestion of a smile came over the face of Sir John. “Perhaps that battle will turn out to be our hardest,” he said, just loud enough for everyone to hear.

“Take me through the plan again,” said Simon, ignoring Sir John’s comment. “I have to present it to the Prime Minister by ten o’clock tomorrow.”

Sir John placed the tip of a long wooden pointer on a model of HMS Broadsword in the middle of a stretch of water in a well-protected bay.