On 20 August 1981, a large sign hanging outside the faculty offices of the Seamanship and Navigation Department in Luce Hall at the U.S. Naval Academy was causing quite a stir. The officers who were teaching midshipmen at that time all had served in the post-Vietnam era—a few had been in the war itself—and the past decade had been a difficult time. The ignominious ending to that war, a public who did not yet thank servicemen for their service, and decreased military spending that created what some described as a “hollow force” all contributed to a bleak era for those in uniform.
But now there was great jubilation in Luce Hall as lieutenants and lieutenant commanders gathered around the sign, grinning broadly as they read the words someone had posted early that morning.
Since 1973, Libyan leader Muammar Qaddafi had claimed that the territorial waters of his nation included the entire Gulf of Sidra, a claim unsupported by international law. He specifically warned that any U.S. ships or aircraft that dared to venture south of 32° 30’ north latitude—a line he dramatically described as “the line of death”—would be attacked by his forces. Periodically, units of the Sixth Fleet would challenge Qaddafi’s illegal and provocative claim by conducting freedom of navigation operations, deliberately moving across that line into the Gulf of Sidra, but remaining outside the internationally recognized 12-mile limit.
One of the officers in Luce Hall had been in the Gulf, participating in one of those freedom of navigation operations some years before, but on that occasion there had been no response from the Libyans. On 19 August 1981, however, a different scenario unfolded.
President Ronald Reagan had authorized a large force—including the aircraft carriers USS Forrestal (CV-59) and Nimitz (CVN-68)—to conduct operations in the Gulf of Sidra, and this time Qaddafi made good on his promise. Two Soviet-built Su-22 Fitter attack aircraft took off from Ghurdabiyah Air Base and headed for the U.S. task force.
The Libyans were detected by an E-2C Hawkeye early warning aircraft that quickly vectored in two F-14 Tomcats from the Nimitz’s airwing, “Fast Eagle 102” (Commander Henry M. “Hank” Kleemann and Lieutenant David J. Venlet) and “Fast Eagle 107” (Lieutenant Lawrence M. Muczynski and Lieutenant [j.g.] James P. Anderson). Armed with short-range AIM-9L Sidewinder heat-seeking missiles and medium-range AIM-7F Sparrow radar-guided missiles, the Tomcats were a lethal pair.
The U.S. F-14s detected the bogeys at about 80 miles, approaching at 550 knots. As they closed, Kleemann took up position 4,000 feet above Muczynski and slightly ahead. When they made visual contact with the oncoming Libyans, Kleemann kept his jet flying straight toward them, while Muczynski took up a position on the Fitters’ more vulnerable “six”—astern of the enemy jets.
This was not the first time Libyan planes had approached U.S. aircraft with apparent hostile intent, but unlike the other times—when the Libyans had turned away when challenged—this time one of the bogeys transformed himself into a “bandit” by firing an Atoll heat-seeking missile at Fast Eagle 102 at a distance of 1,000 feet. The Atoll missed.
The rules of engagement required the enemy to shoot first. Kleemann retaliated with a Sidewinder that sent the offending Fitter plummeting toward the waters of the Gulf far below.
Meanwhile, Muczynski had outmaneuvered the remaining opponent and launched another Sidewinder that destroyed the second Fitter.
The next morning, 5,000 miles away, the officers in Luce Hall celebrated before their sign, which in bold letters read: “USN 2, Qaddafi 0.”
It was a small victory in the grand scheme of things, but as the officers headed for their classes that morning, many sensed the beginning of a new era, when the U.S. military would emerge from the doldrums of the 1970s to rebuild—materially and spiritually—and reclaim its place as the emblem and ultimate source of U.S. (super) power.