123: Chapter 120 Eighteen Minutes

April 22, 1981, 9:11 AM, Ahvaz.

Reza watched the clock on the wall.

9:11 AM. The aircraft had departed three minutes ago. There were fifteen minutes left until they reached the target.

Karimi stood motionless beside the communication console, his headset pressed to his ears, his eyes fixed on the signal lights of the radio channel.

No one in the war room spoke.

The latest telegram from Hassan's surveillance team in the central Iraqi desert lay under Reza's hand—it read: "All four launchers have been erected, missiles are loaded, and ground personnel are currently evacuating the launch area."

Personnel evacuation was the final step before launch.

"How much time is left?" Reza asked.

"Hassan's men say that after the ground personnel begin evacuation, the launch still requires eight to twelve minutes of final preparation."

Reza calculated the time. The F-4 Phantom still needed fifteen minutes to arrive, and the launch countdown had approximately eight to twelve minutes remaining.

There was a gap of three to seven minutes in between.

He didn't speak, simply placing the telegram on the table and smoothing down a corner.

9:15 AM.

The communication console suddenly received a radio signal mixed with the sound of an explosion—it was an emergency report from Hassan's surveillance team.

Karimi took off his headset, his expression grim: "Your Highness, Hassan's team reports that one of the launchers has already ignited."

Reza's fingers stopped on the tabletop.

"Which one?"

"The second one from the north."

"What about the other three?"

"There is no ignition signal yet."

One had already launched, and three remained. This meant that a Scud Missile was already in flight towards Tehran or its vicinity.

"Where will the missile land?"

Karimi calculated quickly: "From southwest of Karbala to Tehran, the straight-line distance is about seven hundred kilometers; the flight time for a Scud Missile is approximately twelve minutes."

"Where will it land in twelve minutes?"

"The trajectory is uncertain; it could be the city center, the south side, or the suburbs. The Scud Missile has a large margin of error, with a circular error probable of about nine hundred meters."

A nine-hundred-meter error in a densely populated city would be a disaster wherever it landed.

Reza picked up the receiver and contacted Tehran directly: "Tell the Air Defense Command to activate the city's air raid sirens immediately and have everyone go to the basements. There are twelve minutes left."

"Do we have anti-missile capabilities?"

"No. But getting into the basements can reduce casualties."

He hung up the receiver and continued watching the clock.

9:17 AM. The F-4 Phantom still needed eleven minutes.

9:21 AM, over the desert southwest of Karbala.

Three F-4 Phantoms swept across the desert at maximum speed, at an altitude of less than three hundred meters, their engines roaring at full thrust.

The lead pilot, Mahavi, saw a plume of smoke in the distance through his eyepiece—it was the exhaust trail left by the Scud Missile that had already been launched.

"We're too late for one," he said over the intercom, "but the other three are still there."

The wingman replied: "I see them, straight ahead, about twelve kilometers away."

The three erected launchers stood in the desert like three fingers. The second launcher from the north, which had already fired, was now empty, but the missiles on the other three were clearly visible.

"Lock onto the targets," Mahavi said. "Take them all out."

The three F-4 Phantoms each locked onto one launcher.

Missile launch only takes one second.

Three AGM-65 Maverick missiles flew out, striking the three MAZ-543 launch vehicles respectively. The Scud Missiles on the launch vehicles were ignited in the explosion, but they did not complete the ignition procedure—the fuel leaked and burned instead of igniting for propulsion, and the missiles snapped in the explosion, collapsing onto the desert floor.

Three Scud Missiles, failed to launch.

Mahavi pulled the aircraft up and turned east.

"Three launchers destroyed," he reported to Ahvaz, "but one had already launched."

9:23 AM, Ahvaz.

Reza heard the report.

Three were stopped, one is already in flight.

"Has the warhead type of that missile been confirmed?"

"It is uncertain. Hassan's men have no way to confirm the warhead type from that distance."

Reza closed his eyes and calculated the time. The missile ignited at 9:15 AM, flight time is twelve minutes, it would land at approximately 9:27 AM.

Four minutes left.

The air raid sirens in Tehran had already sounded. Whether they could get everyone into the basements, he didn't know.

He had done everything he could. The rest was waiting.

9:28 AM, Tehran, South City.

The Scud missile landed in an industrial area in the south of Tehran.

It was not the city center, not a residential area, but a cluster of abandoned warehouses—closed down long after the revolution, usually desolate and rarely visited.

The explosion leveled three warehouses. The crater was about thirty meters in diameter and five meters deep. All glass within a five-hundred-meter radius was shattered.

The warhead was a standard high-explosive warhead, not a chemical one.

After the air raid sirens had sounded, residents who emerged from basements and air raid shelters heard the news; they were silent for a few seconds, then some began to cry, some began to curse, and some ran to the mosque to pray.

Death toll: three people. All were those who couldn't make it into the basements in time.

9:45 AM, Ahvaz.

Karimi finished reading the report from Tehran, and Reza sat motionless in his chair after listening.

"Three people," he repeated, "and it was a standard warhead."

"Yes."

"If it had been a chemical warhead—"

"I dare not think about it."

Reza stood up, walked a few steps in the office, and then stopped.

"Did Hassan's surveillance team suffer any losses?"

"Two members of a team in the north were injured by the bomb's shockwave, but their lives are not in danger."

"Three launchers were destroyed, one had already launched; they deployed four in total this time." His tone was flat, as if he were summarizing. "How many more Scud Missile launchers does Saddam Hussein have?"

"Intelligence indicates there are about twenty left."

"Twenty. We destroyed three, plus the three from Ramadi earlier, that's six destroyed. There are still fourteen whose locations are unknown."

"Hassan's surveillance network cannot cover all of Iraq," Karimi said.

"I know," Reza said, "which is why we must end the war in the south as soon as possible. As long as I destroy the main Iraqi force on the outskirts of Basra, Saddam Hussein will have no capital to continue this war. He will have to come to the negotiating table. There are no Scud Missiles at the negotiating table."

He returned to the map, looking at the area north of Basra.

The main force of three Iraqi divisions was moving south, and their vanguard had already advanced to a position forty kilometers north of Basra.

"Is Rajai ready?"

"He says he is ready."

"Tell him that fighting this battle is not just for Basra; it is to ensure Saddam Hussein has no time to fire any more Scud Missiles. Strike fast, strike hard."

April 23, morning, Tehran.

A Scud Missile landed in Tehran.

This news fermented at a political level faster than Reza had imagined.

Ayatollah Khomeini gave a speech in the morning, using very fierce language: "Saddam Hussein is an enemy of humanity, an enemy of Allah; the Iranian army will thoroughly crush him with the spirit of Jihad."

But in private, part of Ayatollah Khomeini's anger was directed at Reza—why hadn't all the Scud Missiles been intercepted?

Bani-Sadr seized this opportunity. He spoke directly at the cabinet meeting: "Failures at the frontline command level have led to a missile landing in Tehran, causing casualties and public panic. The Supreme Defense Council needs to conduct a comprehensive assessment of the frontline command."

The meaning of these words was clear—he wanted to use this opportunity to strip Reza of his command.

Rafsanjani called Reza that afternoon.

"Your Highness, the political pressure in Tehran is immense. Bani-Sadr has proposed a motion at the cabinet meeting to assess the command."

After listening, Reza asked: "What does the Ayatollah say?"

"The Ayatollah has not expressed a stance, but he hasn't denied it either."

"He is waiting for the result," Reza said, "the result after the battle of Basra is finished. If I win, he will support me. If I lose, he will use Bani-Sadr's motion to deal with me."

"Then what do you mean—"

"I must win, and I must win beautifully. Give me three days."