In My Time - Dick Cheney [98]
Powell seemed more comfortable talking about poll numbers than he was recommending military options. Part of it was just Colin, the way he was attuned to public approval, but listening to him also made me think about how Vietnam had shaped the views of America’s top generals. They had seen loss of public support for the Vietnam War undermine the war effort as well as damage the reputation of the military. There was a view in the Pentagon, for which I had a lot of sympathy, that the civilian leadership had blown it in Vietnam by failing to make the tough decisions that were required to have a chance at prevailing.
I understood where Powell was coming from, but I couldn’t accept it. Our responsibility at the Department of Defense was to make sure the president had a full range of options to consider. No one else in the government could provide him with these options. He had plenty of people who could give him political advice. I brought the meeting to a close, and afterward, although we normally operated on a first-name basis, I addressed Powell formally. “General,” I said, “I need some options.” The business we were about was deadly serious, and I wanted him to understand he was receiving an order. “Yes, sir, Mr. Secretary,” he replied.
As Powell walked out the door of my office, I picked up the phone, punched the extension for Admiral Owens, and asked him to step in for a moment. “I want you to pulse the system,” I told him. “Find out what the navy’s got, what they’re thinking, how we might respond.” A few minutes later I had the same conversation with my junior military aide, Air Force Lieutenant Colonel Garry Trexler, tasking him to pulse the air force planners. I wanted to know what carriers could be deployed, what air wings sent, how soon they could get there. General Powell wasn’t pleased when he learned my military aides were working their own services, and he chewed both of them out. But the president needed options, and I wanted to send a message that I intended for him to have them.
Sitting at my desk that afternoon, I filled several pages of a yellow legal pad, going over the consequences of Saddam’s move and listing questions I had about it. “Shouldn’t our objective be to get him out of Kuwait?” I wrote. “Isn’t that the best short and long term strategy?” I went over nonmilitary options, from diplomatic condemnation to economic sanctions, and concluded, “No non-military option is likely to produce any positive result.” The key to the situation, I wrote, was “U.S. military power—the only thing Hussein fears.” The key to our success would be “determination to use whatever force is necessary.”
At the next NSC meeting, on Friday, August 3, it was clear that Scowcroft was about where I was. There was simply too much at stake, he said, for us to acquiesce in the Iraqi occupation of Kuwait. We needed forces in the area, and Saudi Arabia was the logical place, but, as I noted in the meeting, they had been traditionally reluctant to have an American presence on their soil.
But that might change if the Saudis understood that our forces were essential for their protection, and Scowcroft asked me to arrange a briefing for Prince Bandar, Saudi ambassador to the United States, on the threat to Saudi Arabia and what we could do to defend the Kingdom. A former fighter pilot, Bandar was a gregarious, larger-than-life presence in Washington, a uniquely effective ambassador known for his sense of humor, his cigars, and his friendships with everyone from George Bush to Jerry Jones, owner of the Dallas Cowboys. Scowcroft said the president wanted Bandar to have a full brief on Operations Plan 90-1002, the plan prepared by Central Command for defense of our interests in the Gulf. It hadn’t been completed and, like all war plans, would be modified by events on the ground, but it would convey to Bandar how strong a response we were contemplating.
Later that day, before