Suez 1956, page 33
C. The representatives of the three governments agree that the Israeli Government will not be required to meet the conditions in the appeal addressed to it, in the event that the Egyptian Government does not accept those in the appeal addressed to it for their part.
3. In the event that the Egyptian Government should fail to agree within the stipulated time to the conditions of the appeal addressed to it, the Anglo-French forces will launch military operations against the Egyptian forces in the early hours of the morning of 31 October.
According to Dayan the Israeli and Anglo-French objectives were different but parallel. The Anglo-French goal was to hold the Suez Canal to ensure free passage while Israel intended to take control of the western shore of the Gulf of Aqaba and Sharm el-Sheikh to secure freedom of shipping. The first objective was a temporary measure, the second permanent. The first was to be achieved with Israeli support, the second by Israel alone.41
At 10.30 p.m. on 24 October Dean was at Downing Street where he was ushered in to see Eden and his senior ministers, including Butler, Macmillan, Lord Home, secretary of state for commonwealth affairs, Anthony Head, the newly installed minister of defence, and Mountbatten. A copy of the Sèvres Protocol was handed over to Eden, who showed surprise and then anger that secret diplomacy was no longer a matter of a handshake between gentlemen. It was the defining moment of the Suez crisis. Whatever justification was later advanced for Eden’s policy on Suez, it foundered on this simple fact – that the prime minister was thrown into a panic by the risk of his actions becoming known outside a closed circle of senior colleagues who could be trusted to keep quiet or whose word could be challenged if it ever came to a dispute over his selective version of events.
Dean and Logan were ordered back to Paris the following day, where they were to seek out and destroy all copies of the protocol.
We flew over that morning, and arrived with Pineau in the middle of the day, and told him of the Prime Minister’s request. He said that he had to think about it, but it would be difficult as the Israelis were already on the way back to Israel with their copy. We were asked to wait in the reception rooms of the Quai D’Orsay, which we did. Then, feeling a bit hungry and thirsty, we found that the door was locked! It was late afternoon before we were taken back to Pineau, who told us that the French Government did not agree that the document should be destroyed, and that in any case the Israelis had their copy.42
Four days later, on 29 October, the Israelis launched their attack.
18
An abridged report of what was afoot in the Middle East was given to the full cabinet by Eden and Lloyd on 25 October. The minutes recorded an agreement:
In principle that, in the event of an Israeli attack on Egypt, the government should join with the French government in calling on the two belligerents to stop hostilities and withdraw their forces to a distance often miles from the Canal; and should warn both belligerents that, if either or both of them failed to undertake within twelve hours to comply with these requirements, British and French forces would intervene to enforce compliance.1
No mention was made of the Sèvres Protocol. One or more cabinet members (they are not identified) voiced disquiet that ‘our action might do lasting damage to Anglo-American relations’. They might have pitched their concern more strongly had they been aware of the efforts that had gone into disguising Anglo-French intentions towards Egypt.
Among the many in the higher reaches of government who found it hard to understand what was going on was Sir Roger Makins, Britain’s ambassador in Washington until 15 October, when he took on a new job as head of the Treasury in London, serving under his old friend Harold Macmillan. Makins was puzzled on several counts. There was no explanation as to why it was thought necessary for him to take up new responsibilities at such a critical period in Anglo-American relations, responsibilities moreover for which he was not over-qualified. Dulles, who could make no sense of it, was further irritated when he discovered that Makins’s successor, Sir Harold Caccia, was proceeding at a leisurely pace towards Washington, having been permitted to travel by transatlantic liner. The suspicion had to be that Eden wanted a suspension of top-level diplomacy while his Suez plot unfolded. He was to deny this most vehemently. Eden’s latest biographer quotes him as putting the onus on Caccia. ‘I wanted him to fly, but he wanted a rest and asked to be allowed to go by sea . . . I regretted this.’2
Even assuming this to be true, and there is only Eden’s word for it, a prime minister who was ready to permit such indulgence at such a time has to be classed as a fool. The likelier explanation, that it was all a ploy to keep Dulles guessing, is more to Eden’s credit as a tactician if not to his sense of propriety.
By the last week in October Dulles was registering a ‘deliberate British purpose of keeping us deliberately in the dark as to their intentions with reference to Middle East matters generally and Egypt in particular’.3 To clear the air, thought was given to ‘inviting Eden and Mollet and their foreign ministers to this country for a tripartite discussion toward the end of November’.4 Meanwhile, reports from London and Paris were studied with more than usual thoroughness. Ambassador Winthrop Aldrich was assiduous in keeping Dulles abreast of affairs at Westminster, though he put too much emphasis on Lloyd as a source of intelligence. The failure to assert the authority of the Canal Users’ Association had driven Britain ‘into closer alliance with France and away . . . from the US, which [Lloyd] deplores’. It explained ‘to a certain extent some of the brittle attitudes which are now being taken by the British’.5
The cosy feeling that come what may the Anglo-American special relationship would soon be back on track was shattered when reports started coming through of a military build-up in Israel, along with rumours that somehow Britain and France were involved.
The Israeli armed forces were strong on improvisation and flexibility. A small country, short of 2 million people, could not afford a large standing army. Instead, a core of professionals, 11,000 strong, was supplemented by some 40,000 conscripts, men and women, who served for two and a half years and two years respectively. This was national service of a calibre unknown in Europe. Whereas, say, in Britain, young soldiers devoted their time and energy to the archaic rituals of military discipline such as marching up and down, stomping their feet in unison, in Israel the stress was on fighting skills, the art of survival against heavy odds.
‘The actions of those days developed combat doctrines and methods of combat still in use in the Israel Defense Forces today,’ wrote General Raful Eitan in 1991.
The ideas were revolutionary and innovative. We developed ways to penetrate mine fields, break through fences and fight in trenches and built-up areas. We trained in land-sea maneuvers and engaged in special parachuting exercises. We reached a high level of cooperation and coordination with the Air Force and Navy. The great sense of readiness we felt as a result of our skills contributed to the ability of each soldier to dare bravely and believe that the capability of each soldier has no bounds.6
The system had its drawbacks. For one thing, there were not enough full-time soldiers to nurture all the recruits to an acceptable level of training. For another, a largely conscript army which prided itself on the absence of formality was not the easiest to manage. It was one of the frustrations of Moshe Dayan, then the only serving officer with the rank of general, that his best-laid plans were liable to be thrown into disarray by subordinates who thought they knew better. His problem was exacerbated when the rebel had an impressive record of reprisal raids against the fedayeen strongholds. A young parachute commander called Ariel Sharon was a prime example.
But whatever the failings of the Israeli military, compulsory service, including a period in the reserve, made certain that the entire rising generation of Israeli military put the defence of the country above all other priorities. Within days a full mobilisation was calculated to bring army strength up to around 200,000. For Operation Kadesh – a biblical reference to the wanderings of the children of Israel in the Sinai Desert – a part-mobilisation summoned around 100,000 reservists. That this was achieved without neighbouring countries realising immediately what was happening was a tribute to the army’s organisational skills. Key officers were notified by telephone or telegram. It was then up to them to gather in those under their command, chiefly by going around knocking on doors. All this took less than a day. In the final hours of assembling twelve brigades, fully armed and ready for action, word went out for vehicles of whatever make or age but capable of carrying men and equipment across rough terrain.
The vehicles trickle in, as and when their orders reach them, accompanied by their civilian drivers. If a driver – no matter his age – says that he wants to go to war along with his vehicle, he is allowed to do so. After all, it is his property, and sometimes his only property; and he knows best how to coax it into mobility or to persuade it to negotiate the thick sand or punitive rock of a tricky passage.7
By now, of course, even the most laid-back observer realised that something was up. But what? As Donald Logan recalled, even for those with insider knowledge of the likely sequence of events it ‘was a very uncomfortable period, knowing what was going to happen, but knowing that very few people knew what was going to happen and wondering if it really was going to happen, or if something would prevent it’.8 For those at a distance from the decision-making there was a surfeit of rumours being bandied about, but few could take them seriously. On 27 October, at a reception at the Iranian embassy in Paris, the Egyptian ambassador joked with Pierre Maillard of the Afrique-Levant section of the Quai d’Orsay.
‘Monsieur le Ministre, you are going to attack us soon it seems?’ Maillard, embarrassed, didn’t say anything and the Ambassador continued: ‘No, no, I am teasing you. You know two diplomats from a communist country have come to tell me that you are going to attack us at the same time as Israel. But this is ridiculous. If this was true, you would not be able to stop the repatriation of your citizens. These stories of invasion are completely false and I have underlined this in the despatches that I have sent to Cairo . . .’9
The shared assumption of Israeli watchers was of an impending attack on Jordan. This was suggested by the move north away from the Sinai border of Colonel Ariel Sharon’s 202nd Parachute Brigade. That they were travelling overland instead of by air caused some comment, obscuring the more relevant detail that the force was one battalion short. The deception relaxed the Egyptian high command, which was, in any case, already persuaded that the Sinai was an unlikely battleground of Israeli choosing. Twenty-four thousand square miles of not much except sand and rock was inhospitable country for all except the itinerant Bedouin, who were noble or savage according to romantic inclination. Running the length of Egypt’s eastern border, the defence of the Sinai was concentrated at four communication points. Elsewhere Egyptian troops were light on the ground with at least half the normal garrison occupied in putting up a show of strength in Cairo and other urban centres. Thus over the whole of Sinai, Egyptian forces numbered no more than around thirty thousand.
Two battalions of the Desert Frontier Force guarded the southern pass, otherwise known as the Pilgrim’s Way, across a ridge of high ground about 45 miles to the east of the Suez Canal. At its higher levels the Pilgrim’s Way was pretty well an impenetrable barrier except for a series of narrow gorges of which the most important was the Mitla Pass. The best part of the rest of the Egyptian garrison was deployed in the north-east triangle formed by El Arish, Rafah and Abu Ageila.
The war started with a spectacular display of low-level flying. On 29 October at 1500 hours, four Israeli piston-engined P-51 Mustang fighters swept over the Sinai Desert, descending to little more than 12 feet above the ground to slice through the overhead wires connecting Egyptian forces with their headquarters at Ismailia.10
In the late afternoon a 395-strong battalion of the 202nd Paratroop Brigade led by Lieutenant Colonel Raful Eitan dropped 15 miles to the east of the Mitla Pass. It was some time before the Egyptian defenders realised that they were under threat. Sixteen Dakota transports had flown in low under Egyptian radar, rising to 1, 500 feet just minutes away from the jump area. Assembling his troops, Eitan led the march towards the Mitla Pass. In gathering darkness they dug themselves in, covering the road in both directions. At 2100 hours, eight jeeps, mortars and other weapons, ammunition, water, food and medicine were parachuted in. Along with the supplies came an order to stay clear of the Mitla Pass itself.
By now the Egyptians were aware that Israeli forces were in the area. A chance encounter with three troop carriers of the Frontier Regiment, two of which escaped an Israeli ambush, raised the alarm. But Cairo remained calm. When Nasser heard that Eisenhower had ordered a general evacuation of American nationals he expressed surprise.
Nasser was friendly and relaxed and said he was unable to understand what all the turmoil was about. He had just taken vacation of four days and something seemed to have happened during that time of which he was completely unaware . . . Could it be that Israel really wanted war? If so, he could not see why. It is true that in monitoring Israeli radio a certain change in tone had been detected about five days ago but he had not attached any particular significance to it. What is it all about?11
A day earlier, when Israeli mobilisation had become common knowledge, part of Sharon’s 202nd Brigade had concentrated near Eilat close to the far tip of the Israeli border with Jordan. Sharon was not best pleased with his task. ‘Some other unit could have done it equally well, and it would add an extra 65 miles to our race to link up with the battalion at Mitla.12 The thought occurred to him that this might be Dayan’s ruse to keep him out of the limelight when the real fighting started.
No attempt was made by Sharon to hide his troops. Indeed, he was determined to be seen. Lookouts at the British base at Aqaba, just across the border, had no difficulty in spotting Israeli army vehicles on the move. How could anyone doubt that Jordan was the intended victim? The pundits were wrong. As the paratroops prepared to drop over the Mitla Pass, Sharon made a smart about-turn from Jordan to dash across Israel, from its eastern to its western border, there to begin a battle drive into Sinai. Nine hours later, having lost many of his vehicles to breakdowns or sand drifts, Sharon was close to the border town of Kuntilla, his first target.
That evening we took Kuntilla, moving the attacking unit around to the rear so they could come in out of the setting sun. On the radio we heard the Israeli military spokesman announcing a ‘raid to eliminate terrorist bases in the Sinai’, part of the ruse to paint what was happening as a reprisal rather than the opening moves of a fully-fledged war (in fact there were no terrorist bases in the Sinai). By dawn the next morning we were in position in front of Themed, a Bedouin oasis that had been heavily fortified with mine fields and perimeter defenses and was held by two companies of Egyptian infantry. We arrived without most of our tanks. Along with almost sixty other vehicles they had broken down in the treacherous dunes and wadis. With no road, there were places where the brigade’s tractors had had to tow every single truck and half-truck.
But we were there. With the rising sun at our backs this time I sent in a battalion-size attack under Ahron Davidi, who crashed forward in a fast-moving arc of half-tracks, jeeps, and the remaining tanks. Huge whirls of dust clouded the desert from the charging vehicles, illuminated from behind by the bright morning glare. Emerging from the cloud, at the last moment we formed a single line and smashed into the middle of the Egyptian defenses. Themed too fell quickly.13
Making do with what was left of his tanks and trucks, Sharon pressed on to the Mitla Pass, where Eitan’s paratroops were taking heavy punishment. ‘At ten that evening one of our searchlights picked out a big homemade sign by the side of the desert track. It read in Hebrew, ‘Border Ahead. Stop!’ Just beyond, Raful’s battalion was waiting, dug into the hard dirt on the flatlands of Mitla’s eastern approaches. It had taken us thirty hours to reach them.’14
Heavy shelling by the Egyptian 2nd Infantry Brigade had pinned down the Israelis where they were vulnerable to air strikes. This undeniable plus for the Egyptian air force was later magnified to suggest extensive follow-up attacks on Israeli airfields. Sporadic raids were carried out but in contrast to Nasser’s version of events published in the Egyptian Gazette, 15 they were largely ineffective. However, fiction should not detract from one of the few successes of the Egyptian MiG17 fighters. At the Mitla Pass, they were powerful enough to add a sense of urgency to Eitan’s appeals for help from the rest of his brigade as it made its way across Sinai for a planned link-up. It was a race between Sharon and Egyptian reinforcements moving in from Fayid for what the Egyptian high command expected to be a decisive victory.
A major problem for Sharon was the absence of reliable communications. Ground-to-ground link-ups were sporadic and, in any case, much of the equipment had been lost or damaged in the breakneck advance. But help was on hand. Sharon’s saviour was a young reservist, Erich Reich.
Imagine my surprise to discover I had become a communication officer. That really was a joke. What did I know of those cumbersome walky-talkies I had seen other soldiers lug around? As I was being hustled towards a Piper plane waiting to take off I was informed that I was to make contact with the brigade that had just jumped on to the slopes of the Mitla Pass in the middle of the Sinai desert. This is the first I had heard that the 1956 war had begun. ‘Your pilot is an experienced navigator so you shouldn’t have too many problems.’ That proved a rather inaccurate statement. ‘And who am I communicating with?’ I queried. ‘The Boss, Ariel Sharon!’ was the curt response.16
