- The Observer, Sunday October 7 2001
As America woke up and began to go to work 20 days after some 6,000 people lost their lives when hijacked aircraft piloted by suicide bombers arrowed into buildings in Washington and New York, Cheney told Bush the good news: everything seemed to be in place.
Away from television cameras and reporters, the country's military might had moved into action. Men and women had said goodbye to their family and friends and quietly headed east - aboard warships, supply aircraft and some of the most sophisticated fighter jets the world has ever seen. Special forces were in the region. Aircraft carriers had arrived in the Gulf. Attack helicopters were fuelled up and ready to go.
Bush listened intently as Cheney also told him the noose seemed to be tightening on Osama bin Laden, the 44-year-old Saudi-born extremist who had been identified as the mastermind behind the strikes from his bases in Afghanistan. Although rumours and disinformation about his whereabouts had whirled out of the barren and treacherous terrain of central Asia - some spies said he had slipped out of Afghanistan dressed as a woman and was now in Chechnya; others, that he had fled to Somalia - Cheney had enough intelligence to suggest bin Laden remained in Kabul, the Afghan capital. There were even reports that the world's most wanted man had been identified visiting his doctor for treatment for his chronic kidney problems
Bush and Cheney finished their coffee. It was decided. All being well, strikes would begin on Tuesday night.
This did not please Colin Powell, the Secretary of State, who had arrived for work at an office nearby that morning shortly after 8am. Powell, the first black man to hold such a senior post in American government, had secured unexpected assurances from Europe, Russia, Japan and China that they backed the US war on terrorism. Alliances were cracking, the globe was shifting, history was on the move. Pakistan and Russia were, however, beginning to ask for political or financial considerations - a toning-down of criticism over human rights abuses, and in Pakistan's case a lifting of economic sanctions imposed after nuclear weapons testing.
Strategically crucial Uzbekistan's demands were also stark: President Islam Karimov made it clear to the State Department that he expected silence from America over 7,000 political prisoners - some of them in jail for no more than having a beard - in his country, such was the fear of Taliban-backed fundamentalists.
Powell was in no mind to cooperate, but the White House made it clear that there would be no argument with Uzbekistan. There were other, crucial nations that needed attention that morning: principally Saudi Arabia. Powell had been told to get these countries on side so that hawks in the administration could launch their war.
Donald Rumsfeld, the Defence Secretary, was getting impatient: too many promises had been made of action against the Taliban and bin Laden, yet so far none had been kept. It was his job to keep the military build-up on course. When the allies Powell had assembled handed their bases over to the US airforce, the war would effectively belong to him. Privately, he was pressing for the war to extend beyond Afghanistan and across 'enemy' states in the Middle East, hoping to end unfinished business with Saddam Hussein, the Iraqi dictator. Powell was a worried man.
Brighton: Blair's message for Washington's doves
Nearly 4,000 miles away, as the wind whipped in off the Channel, the first floor suite of Brighton's Metropole Hotel was abuzz with activity. A secure telephone line was being installed. Intelligence officers swept and re-swept the room as a final check list of security measures was ticked off. It was Monday and Tony Blair was arriving that afternoon.
The Prime Minister - the man who would be dubbed America's new ambassador - was 24 hours away from a speech which would send ripples around the world and play a crucial role in steadying the nerves about war.
He had drafted the first 4,000 words of the 55-minute appearance at the Labour Party conference in Brighton the week before, sitting in his study at No 10 Downing Street, hammering away on a computer.
He had first discussed his thoughts with one of his oldest political colleagues, Gordon Brown. He had also shown the first draft to Alastair Campbell, his director of communications, Peter Hyman, the head of the strategic communication unit at Downing Street, and Sally Morgan, his trusted former political secretary who is now Women's Minister.
That weekend Blair had decided on a two-prong strategy: provide an account of the case against bin Laden and call in all the diplomatic favours possible, arm-twisting with offers of aid here, military help there.
One Foreign Office official also pointed out that few in the Islamic world believe a word America says. It was better that Britain publish the evidence. Blair asked his officials to start drafting a document against bin Laden.
The night before the secure line had sparked into life as the Downing Street switchboard had connected Brighton to the White House. It was President Bush on the line. The two men spoke for 15 minutes. Blair explained to Bush his decision to publish evidence against bin Laden. With officials taking notes to prepare the 'tape' for all Government departments involved in the conflict, they also spoke about the state of the coalition and the latest information on military action.
The next day Blair arrived at the podium at the conference centre at 2.15pm. That morning the final text of his speech had been faxed to the White House, President Gerhard Schröder in Berlin and the Elysee Palace in Paris, the official residence of President Jacques Chirac. It wasn't for negotiation, officials pointed out, it was for information. No changes were asked for or allowed.
In New York and Washington, it was the start of another working day. The major television networks, CNN, NBC and ABC, announced to their millions of viewers that they were going live to Brighton. In Islamabad the Taliban ambassador prepared for a chaotic press conference immediately Blair left the stage. The Prime Minister's speech would be watched and listened to around the world.
'In retrospect the millennium marked only a moment in time,' Blair said before a packed and hushed audience. 'It was the events of 11 September that marked a turning point in history, where we confront the dangers of the future and assess the choices facing humankind. It was a tragedy. An act of evil. From this nation goes our deepest sympathy and prayers for the victims and our profound solidarity with the American people. We were with you at the first. We will stay with you to the last.'
He spoke of community and a new world order, of building alliances against fanatics and harnessing international action to solve conflicts across the earth. And, towards the end, came the strongest message Blair could send to the doves in America. 'I think of a black man, born in poverty, who became Chief of their Armed Forces and is now Secretary of State Colin Powell and I wonder frankly whether such a thing could have happened here.' Powell, the man of reason, the man of incremental steps and diplomacy, was the man Blair was backing.
That afternoon Blair was drained. At a private drinks reception he admitted he was nervous about the response the speech would have and wondered whether the reaction of the people in the hall had been as warm as he might have expected. His wife worried about his next trip abroad. The Prime Minister missed that night's gala dinner. He was whisked back to Downing Street to continue planning for the war ahead.
Washington: allies waver and an attack is aborted
Back in Washington, Bush was delighted with Blair's speech. But another, more pressing matter was weighing on the US President's mind. There was bad news. The CIA believed it had located Osama bin Laden at a compound 'in a large Afghan city' - only to lose him again. The public was pressing for retribution against the terrorists that had changed their country for ever. Yet the briefings to the news media that a strike would happen on Tuesday night began to falter.
The attack was due to have been launched from a base near Riyad, the Saudi capital. But the Saudis, fearing a backlash from Islamic extremists in their own country, suddenly withdrew permission to use the base. Other bad news was coming in from pivotal participants in the shifting alliance. A letter arrived at the State Department from the embassy of Uzbekistan saying that the government in Tashkent would limit US use of its airstrips to logistical and emergency manoeuvres.
Rumsfeld had hoped to enable squadrons from the fleets of bombers and jet fighters he had dispatched to the area to use Uzbek bases and air space - but suddenly Tashkent had backed away. Things were going awry.
Matters got worse. Another alarming cable came from the government of Oman, the strategically crucial desert state on the horn of the Arabian Sea. Oman was to be a key US military supply and logistics hub, for use by warships and bombers for air strikes from the sea and via Pakistan. Oman wished to renegotiate the use of its seaboard by the US navy. Every country involved wanted something in return for support. The Great Game, played throughout Afghanistan in the nineteenth century as West and East vied for control of the strategically important country, was back under way across the region.
Colin Powell had given an interview to the New York Times that morning, saying he had been pressing moderate Arab governments to accept that 'all paths' of inquiry into the carnage of 11 September led to bin Laden. In Brussels, Nato also said that its intelligence found the evidence against bin Laden 'compelling' and gave 'unconditional support' for retaliatory strikes against Afghanistan. Remarks by President Vladimir Putin, visiting Brussels from Moscow, affirmed that 'Russia's special services do not need any additional proof to participate in the struggle against terrorist acts'. But as Powell, Putin and Nato spoke, those same moderate Arab governments, themselves threatened by Islamic fundamentalism, were hedging their bets; the aircraft and attack helicopters remained grounded. America had blinked. Orders were relayed to American forces: abort.
Riyadh: deals and diplomacy
As allied aircrews and warships remained on a state of high alert, Bush and his allies began plotting a renewed offensive. This time, however, they would make deals and cajole the shifting alliance of states back into line.
Rumsfeld left Washington on Tuesday night for Saudi Arabia. The US Defence Secretary went to meet King Fahd to persuade him that they would find a way to prevent his opponents sparking a revolution over the use of US airbases on holy land. He made a promise: the US would direct bombing raids from Saudi Arabia, but would not conduct bombing missions from Saudi territory. Fahd was twitchy. Rumsfeld moved on to Oman. Clambering aboard an Omani Puma helicopter, he flew to a desert camp to meet the Sultan Qaboos bin Said, in a large red tent not far from a camel race track. The Sultan wore a ceremonial dagger and Rumsfeld, like his aides, kept on dark business suits, despite temperatures of over 120 degrees. There was no air conditioning.
Rumsfeld's mission was clear, whatever the spin back in Washington: to finalise access to the Sultanate's airfield at the mouth of the Persian Gulf for the US air force, cashing in on the desert state's close ties with the British military, using raids against Iraq in 1998 as a model and appealing to the Sultan's backing for Egypt in signing peace accords with Israel.
Rumsfeld and his entourage came away from the remote camp coated in sweat and with the words, if not deeds, they needed - sufficient, anyway, to guarantee a $1.1 billion arms sale to Oman within 24 hours. The alliance was not falling apart, but it was still not holding together either. America's friend from London would have a crucial role to play.
Moscow: cementing the alliance
At lunchtime on Thursday, at the VIP suite at Heathrow, Blair's RAF VC10 warmed up for take-off. He had been going to travel in a standard Boeing 777 until his security advisers warned him that he was flying into some of the most volatile regions of the world. When news of the trip to Russia, Pakistan and India started leaking out the day before, Blair agreed to use the VC10 which is faster, more manouevreable and is equipped with anti-missile 'chaff' defence. Earlier that week Blair's security entourage had been upped from two guards to four.
As Blair settled into the cramped seats a call came through with what was described as a 'vague report' of a plane being blown up over the Black Sea. Another terrorist attack? It was unclear as the pilot pressed on to the Russian capital. They would find out later that a flight from Tel Aviv to Russia had been blown out of the sky by a stray missile.
At 3.30pm the VC10 touched down in the Russian capital. A convoy of 15 vehicles whisked Blair and his entourage to President Vladimir Putin's official residence opposite the Kremlin. After an hour they moved to the Kremlin itself and Putin invited Blair and a senior official into his personal study where, against a backdrop of whitewashed walls, the men spoke for 90 minutes of the international coalition and Putin raised the issue of closer Russian involvement in Nato.
That evening, over Russian stew at Putin's dacha in Gorky, 20 miles outside Moscow, the Russian leader and Blair spoke into the early hours of the morning. They broke for two reasons, once to take a telephone call from President Bush expressing condolences for the loss of the Russian aircraft and then for a game of Russian snooker in the billiard room. Before the meal with Putin's two daughters and his wife, the two men went for a walk in the woods accompanied by an interpreter and Putin's black labrador. Putin thanked Blair for being a true friend of Russia and there was further discussion of the role of the Northern Alliance in any future Afghan government. Both agreed that the present Taliban regime had to be overthrown. The Anglo-Russian alliance had been cemented.
Putin, looking for Western cash, wider global influence, and reassurance about Nato expansionism, could not have been more cooperative. The shooting down of the aircraft in Ukrainian airspace only added to the sense of urgency.
Blair slept for little more than two hours before leaving for Islamabad. A few hours into the flight from Moscow, as the VC10 cruised at 35,000 feet, Blair got up from his cramped seat and moved forward to the cockpit. It was Friday morning. With Everest and the snow-capped mountains of the Hindu Kush visible under a bright blue sky, the Prime Minister looked down over the rough terrain as the plane took a detour over China to avoid Afghan air space. It was the type of landscape British soldiers would be fighting on. 'Extraordinary,' Blair muttered.
In his mind he knew he had to take words of reassurance to the Pakistani President, Pervez Musharraf, and offers of aid. The Foreign Office and Blair's personal foreign policy adviser, Sir David Manning, had briefed the Prime Minister about the anti-American protests that had peppered the country since 11 September. Musharraf had to be shored up and it was suddenly becoming clearer why Blair had insisted on publishing the 21-page document of evidence against bin Laden. It would help promote the Arab and Pakistani coalition.
In the splendour of the marble dinning hall of the presidential palace, Blair sat next to Musharraf. On the other side of the president sat a man who has become a lynch-pin in keeping Pakistan onside. Lord Guthrie, the suave former British Chief of Defence Staff, has been a close friend of Musharraf for more than 20 years.
Guthrie beamed as Blair announced the restart of defence cooperation broken off since 1998 and vowed Pakistan was now rejoining the international community. Blair laid it on with a trowel, quoting from the Koran, suggesting help from the International Monetary Fund, insisting the coalition did not seek revenge and promising Britain will never walk away from the Pakistan refugee crisis. Above all he insisted Pakistan had a legitimate voice in the future reshaping of Afghanistan.
At a brief press conference following their meeting the differences of emphasis between Britain and Pakistan were apparent. Asked whether he accepted the Taliban government had to go, a sweating Musharraf replied: 'All eventualities had to be considered.' The Prime Minister nodded vigorously when Musharraf eventually conceded the evidence pointed to some involvement by bin Laden on 11 September. He looked even happier when the president confirmed he would provide logistics, airspace and intelligence to the coalition. For a man sitting on a tinderbox of Islamic fundamentalism, it was a brave thing to do. Blair flew on to Delhi for a meeting with the Indian government before arriving home yesterday afternoon.
Kabul: the Taliban harden their line
As Blair and Rumsfeld were launching their diplomatic efforts around the region, Mullah Hassan Akhund, the tall, thin Taliban Deputy Chief Minister, was in fighting mood. On Wednesday morning senior Taliban Ministers were meeting at the former presidential palace in Kabul. Outside the grimy windows of the decrepit lounge that serves as a Cabinet office the autumn sunlight filtered through the leaves of the plane trees. Taliban soldiers lounged against the top-of-the-range landcruisers that had ferried the ministers to the meeting.
Striding around the room, Akhund hurled oaths and imprecations at the Americans and the Taliban's erstwhile allies, Pakistan. The dozen Taliban Ministers sitting in armchairs around a coffee table behind him all nodded their agreement, but it was the youngest of them, the 35-year-old Minister of Education, Mullah Amir Khan Muttaki, who voiced what they were all feeling. After fighting for so long against the Soviets and the 'bandits' of the opposition how could anyone talk of allowing the deposed 86-year-old king to return. There would be no backsliding. Their defiance of the huge forces ranged against them would continue without compromise. There would be no handover of Osama bin Laden.
The session, which normally only lasts until midday, ran on into the afternoon. The Taliban were moving to a full war footing, calling up reserves, rallying wavering commanders, issuing calls for solidarity, and there was much to discuss.
Many of the key players were not present, however. Mullah Mohamed Omar, their reclusive one-eyed leader, was in the southern desert city of Kandahar, issuing instructions and a series of increasingly defiant calls to arms. The moment he detected any possible weaknesses in the statements of his envoys in Pakistan or elsewhere he was swift to countermand them. There would be no surrender to the hated Americans. Bin Laden, who funded the regime, would never allow it.
Elsewhere, as the Ministers in Kabul swore to resist the 'American and British crusaders', gangs of Taliban soldiers were roaming the country, forcing young men from their homes to join the army. In the countryside the Taliban were demanding that each village supply 20 or 30 men for defence militias. In the cities each quarter has to supply the same.
'No one knows the future,' said Najeebullah Khan, a tribal chief in the Khyber Pass. 'We wait for Allah.'
London: sifting the intelligence
People were enjoying the late autumn sunshine. Boats were plying their tourist trade up and down the River Thames, past the Houses of Parliament and the London Eye. But there were many fewer visitors around than usual in the English capital last week.
There was, however, a great deal of activity in the dingy offices of the Asia department of the Defence Intelligence Service in Whitehall, and behind the toughened green glass of MI6's postmodern headquarters on the Vauxhall Embankment, where intelligence officers were working round the clock, sifting every scrap of information to come out of Afghanistan and the wider region. It was a process that was being repeated at the CIA's headquarters in Langley, Virginia, and in the headquarters of the US Defence Intelligence Agency.
As they studied communications intercepts, diplomatic cables, satellite images and reports from the ground, the picture that was emerging was one markedly different to the portrayal of the Taliban at the beginning of the crisis. Then the Taliban was being painted as a formidable fighting force, forged in the fierce tradition of the tribal guerrillas who had driven out two British expeditions and more recently had humiliated the Soviet army.
The question that is now being asked, they say, is not whether the Taliban and Al-Qaeda can be defeated by the threat of military action alone. 'Military action is absolutely on the agenda,' said a British defence source. 'But why rush in if there is a chance that the Taliban start to crumble before anyone has to go in and fight?'
That shift in urgency was underlined last week by the comments of a senior US defence intelligence official who told The Observer that America was prepared to play a longer game, but that for political reasons it was important that there was a deadline for military action by Thanksgiving weekend.
'What is clear is that we need some blood in the sand by November 22,' he said.
By yesterday, the forces were in place to make that happen. On Friday the US army deployed around 1,000 infantry soldiers to Uzbekistan. The troops, from the 10th Mountain Division based at Fort Drum, New York, are the first US ground forces known to be deployed in the region. The disclosure came as the President of Uzbekistan announced he had granted permission for American forces to use an air base in his country for search-and-rescue missions.
The United States has assembled more than 30,000 troops in the region around Afghanistan, including two aircraft carrier battle groups, a contingent of Marines, hundreds of land-based warplanes and preparations for army special operations soldiers to conduct hit-and-run raids inside Afghanistan. As well as British ships in the area for support, sources say two British submarines armed with cruise missiles have also been made available for any attack.
Evidence was also emerging of disagreements within the Taliban and of defections to the opposition Northern Alliance. This split may behind the more conciliatory tone taken by some Taliban officials over pre-conditions for a handover of bin Laden.
According to the most recent intelligence assessments the Taliban can count on up to 50,000 men under arms. But what is crucial is not the number but the quality of the fighters and their commanders.
'You should not think of the Taliban as traditional armed forces,' said a defence intelligence official last week. 'At their best they are capable of conducting simple military operations as motorised infantry, relying on heavy weapons and superior numbers in attacks. They are not capable of any more coordinated assaults.'
Officials have also identified three key components to the Taliban's military strength - the Taliban's own supporters, who they believe have little real appetite for intensive combat; foreigners, mainly from Islamic countries who came initially to fight the Russians, and bin Laden's al-Qaeda fighters, the best equipped and most effective under Taliban command.
The logic of an attack on Al Qaeda - defence intelligence officials point out - would be a collapse of the Taliban's ability to prosecute an effective war against its opponents in the Northern Alliance.
In addition to their lightly armed fighters, Taliban forces have access to around 100 tanks, mainly of former Soviet vintage, and around 20 aircraft of questionable airworthiness, including a handful of former Soviet fixed wing fighters, some helicopters and a few transport planes, all kept in the air using cannibalised parts.
In addition, officials believe that the Taliban possess several hundred surface-to-air missiles - mainly vintage SA-2s and 3s - of equally ancient vintage and questionable viability as the rest of their equipment. Equally serious, say sources, is its lack of any integrated air defence system to coordinate those missiles or any integrated communications system for its fighters in the field. Instead, say sources, fighters are reliant on short-range radios of limited usefulness in mountainous country and the 'Afghan equivalent of a messenger on a motorbike.'
Rumsfeld returned to America yesterday; Blair was back in London. Both men were exhausted, but quietly satisfied. After landing, Rumsfeld headed to see Bush and tell him the news. It was not all good: many of the countries he had visited were exceptionally jumpy. But he had got most of them onside.
Bush would also be happy with the news from Blair. After touching down at Heathrow, Blair was whisked away in a waiting limousine. He had encountered one particularly tricky moment in India. Aggrieved about being told that Pakistan's neighbours must sign up to help the war against terrorism, Prime Minister Atal informed him they had been fighting terror for years.
But, that apart, Blair and his officials believed the coalition was stronger than it had ever been. 'They are ready to go,' one aide said, indicating strikes were imminent.
The mission, as far as possible, had been accomplished. With the pieces in place, President Bush spent last night at Camp David holding more talks with his military advisers. The week had been fruitful and Bush was once more on the offensive, warning Afghanistan's leader 'that the time was running out' to turn over Osama bin Laden.
In his weekly radio address, he added: 'The Taliban has been given the opportunity to surrender all the terrorists in Afghanistan and to close down their camps and operations. Full warning has been given.'
As he spoke in America, the noise of gunfire could be heard in Afghanistan. A surface-to-air missile was launched as anti-aircraft batteries opened up on two planes spotted over Kabul. The gunners were jumpy. The salvos lasted more than 15 minutes. Thousands of people gathered on the streets, staring in silence at the sky.
One plane disappeared at high speed; the second circled the war-shattered city. The planes, believed to be spy craft, were not hit. The missile shot past them, exploding in a cloud of white smoke.
By last night, the guns had fallen silent. Taliban soldiers were still manning them, scouring the skies anxiously. The sound of bullets raking the air will be heard again soon enough.
