On Wings Of Eagles (1990)

Another weak element of the plan was the business of getting out of the van and climbing on its roof. All that jumping out and scrambling up would use precious seconds. And would Paul and Bill, after weeks in prison, be fit enough to climb a ladder and jump off the roof of a van?

All sorts of solutions were canvassed--an extra ladder, a mattress on the ground, grab handles on the roof--but in the end the team came up with a simple solution: they would cut a hole in the roof of the van and get in and out through that. Another little refinement, for those who had to jump back down through the hole, was a mattress on the floor of the van to soften their landing.

The getaway journey would give them time to alter their appearances. In Tehran they planned to wear jeans and casual jackets, and they were all beginning to grow beards and mustaches to look less conspicuous there; but in the van they would carry business suits and electric shavers, and before switching to the cars they would all shave and change their clothes.

Ralph Boulware, independent as ever, did not want to wear jeans and a casual jacket beforehand. In a business suit with a white shirt and a tie he felt comfortable and able to assert himself, especially in Tehran, where good Western clothing labeled a man as a member of the dominant class in society. Simons calmly gave his assent: the most important thing, he said, was for everyone to feel comfortable and confident during the operation.

At the Doshen Toppeh Air Base, from which they planned to leave in an air force jet, there were both American and Iranian planes and personnel. The Americans would, of course, be expecting them, but what if the Iranian sentries at the entrance gave them a hard time? They would all carry forged military identity cards, they decided. Some wives of EDS executives had worked for the military in Tehran and still had their ID cards: Merv Stauffer would get hold of one and use it as a model for the forgeries.

Throughout all this, Simons was still very low key, Coburn observed. Chain-smoking his cigars (Boulware told him: "Don't worry about getting shot, you're going to die of cancer!"), he did little more than ask questions. The plans were made in a round-table discussion, with everyone contributing, and decisions were arrived at by mutual agreement. Yet Coburn found himself coming to respect Simons more and more. The man was knowledgeable, intelligent, painstaking, and imaginative. He also had a sense of humor.

Coburn could see that the others were also beginning to get the measure of Simons. If anyone asked a dumb question, Simons would give a sharp answer. In consequence, they would hesitate before asking a question, and wonder what his reaction might be. In this way he was getting them to think like him.

Once on that second day at the lake house they felt the full force of his displeasure. It was, not surprisingly, young Ron Davis who angered him.

They were a humorous bunch, and Davis was the funniest. Coburn approved of that: laughter helped to ease the tension in an operation such as this. He suspected Simons felt the same. But one time Davis went too far.

Simons had a pack of cigars on the floor beside his chair, and five more packs out in the kitchen. Davis, getting to like Simons and characteristically making no secret of it, said with genuine concern: "Colonel, you smoke too many cigars--it's bad for your health."

By way of reply he got The Simons Look, but he ignored the warning.

A few minutes later, he went into the kitchen and hid the five packs of cigars in the dishwasher.

When Simons finished the first pack he went looking for the rest and could not find them. He could not operate without tobacco. He was about to get in a car and go to a store when Davis opened the dishwasher and said: "I have your cigars here."

"You keep those, goddammit," Simons growled, and he went out.

When he came back with another five packs he said to Davis: "These are mine. Keep your goddam hands off them."

Davis felt like a child who has been put in the corner. It was the first and last prank he played on Colonel Simons.

While the discussion went on, Jim Schwebach sat on the floor, trying to make a bomb.

To smuggle a bomb, or even just its component parts, through Iranian customs would have been dangerous--"That's a risk we don't have to take," Simons said--so Schwebach had to design a device that could be assembled from ingredients readily available in Tehran.

The idea of blowing up a building was dropped: it was too ambitious and would probably kill innocent people. They would make do with a blazing car as a diversion. Schwebach knew how to make "instant napalm" from gasoline, soap flakes, and a little oil. The timer and the fuse were his two problems. In the States he would have used an electrical timer connected with a toy rocket motor; but in Tehran he would be restricted to more primitive mechanisms.