Egypt Deliberates
In their political struggle with Egypt, the Syrians threatened to make war on Israel. Then, when Israel responded by asserting itself in the DZ’s, the Syrians unleashed guerrilla attacks that provoked the Israelis to plan a reprisal. This the Soviets told Nasser, meant invasion. Such was the strange concatenation that had brought Egypt’s forces into Sinai. Yet that outcome would in turn launch another chain of events as Egyptian leaders deliberated over what to do with those forces, where to put them and how to command them, and whether they should be there at all.
Gen. Muhammad Fawzi, austere and by-the-book, had commanded the Egyptian Military Academy for seventeen years before being named chief of the general staff by his former academy classmate, Nasser. That appointment had far less to do with Fawzi’s military prowess than his unwavering loyalty to the president, who saw in him a means—albeit frail—of limiting ‘Amer’s power.
That same trust had prompted Nasser to dispatch Fawzi to Damascus, where he arrived on May 14. He found the capital in a state of high agitation—not because of the Israelis, but because of an anti-Islamic article that had appeared in the official military magazine Army of the People (Faysh al-Sha’b) dismissing Allah as an “embalmed toy in the museums of history.” Though the regime quickly disclaimed the piece as an imperialist conspiracy and sentenced its author to life imprisonment, 20,000 protesters took to the streets. Exacerbating this upheaval were renewed tensions between rival factions in the junta, and the growing resentment of merchants whose businesses had been confiscated by the government. America’s Ambassador Smythe observed wryly that “such machinations can go on while the country is allegedly facing serious external threat [is a] sign of [the] times in present day Syria.”6
One thing Fawzi did not find was evidence of unusual Israeli troop movements. He conferred with Syrian Chief of Staff Ahmad Suweidani and closely studied aerial photographs of the border area taken the previous day. Then, in a private plane, he surveyed the border himself. There was no sign of IDF concentrations anywhere. The Syrian army was not even on a state of alert.
Fawzi reported his findings to Nasser. “There is nothing there. No massing of forces. Nothing.” A similar assessment arrived from the chief of Egypt’s military intelligence, Lt. Gen. Muhammad Ahmad Sadiq, who sent several Israeli Arabs to reconnoiter Northern Galilee. “There are no force concentrations,” Sadiq deduced. “Nor is there justification, tactical or strategic, for such concentrations.”
The U.S. embassy in Cairo corroborated these conclusions, as did the CIA. Alone among foreign observers, only Gen. Bull gave even the slightest credence to the charge that Israel was poised to invade. “We have no reports, thus far, of any buildup,” he admitted, but then cautioned that “Israel does not have to concentrate her forces in any one area in order to mount an attack.”7
Fawzi’s report could only have meant that the Soviet alarm was false, and yet the Egyptian president preferred to overlook these repudiations and to proceed as if the Israelis were indeed about to attack.8 The reasons were not difficult to fathom. A major share of the army was already in Sinai; to call it back now would be humiliating in the extreme at a time when Nassar could ill afford further humiliations. Continuing the buildup, on the other hand, could greatly enhance his status. Reactions to the move throughout the Arab world were enthusiastic, even ecstatic; years had passed since Nassar had been so hailed. Finally, the absence of a manifest threat to Syria was welcome news. Egypt could remilitarize Sinai, and reap the credit for it, without actually risking a war.
The situation seemed to be no-lose, and not only to Nasser; ‘Amer was excited as well. Enlightened by Fawzi as to the true situation up north, ‘Amer showed no reaction. “I began to believe that the question of Israeli concentrations, from his [‘Amer’s] point of view, was not the only or the chief reason for the mobilization and deployments we were undertaking so quickly,” Fawzi wrote.
The reason was yet another opportunity to expand the field marshal’s power. He swiftly exploited the situation by placing cronies in key operational jobs. First among these was fifty-nine-year-old Lt. Gen. ‘Abd-al-Muhsin Kamil Murtagi, chief of the Ground Forces Command, which ‘ Amer had created in 1964 to bypass Chief of Staff Fawzi. Murtagi, who had served as a political commissar in Yemen but had no operational experience, became head of all ground forces in Sinai. Under him, in command of the Eastern Front, ‘Amer placed Gen. Ahmad Isma’il ‘Ali and under him, twelve new division and brigade commanders. With Sidqi Mahmud and Adm. Suliman ‘Izzat, the air force and navy chiefs since 1953, personally answerable to him, ‘Amer completed his grip on the army. “You can be my chief of staff,” he told Murtagi, “and we can have nothing more to do with Supreme Headquarters.”9
Fulfilling ‘Amer’s political ends meant more than appointing yes-men, however; it also required erasing the 1956 disgrace and leading Egypt to victory. But the field marshal could not initiate offensive action against Israel as long as the army adhered to Conqueror. Devised by the Soviets in 1966, this plan provided for three deeply entrenched lines running on a north-south axis across Sinai. The first line, from Rafah to Abu ‘Ageila, was to be lightly defended and to serve as bait for luring the Israelis into a frontal assault. Advancing, enemy forces would soon find themselves deep in the desert, cut off from supplies and facing the second line—the Curtain (al-Sitar)—massively fortified, stretching across a triangle inscribed by the bases at al-‘ Arish, Jabal Libni, and Bir Hassana. Having broken themselves on these defenses, Israeli armor and infantry would then be prey for a counterstrike from the second line together with forces from the third, in the Mitla and Giddi passes, protecting the approaches to the Canal. This “shield and sword” strategy culminated in a “comprehensive attack, drawing on tactical and strategic reserves, that will shift the battle onto enemy territory, hitting its vital areas.”10
Construction of all the fortifications and infrastructure for Conqueror had yet to be completed by 1967, and many officers familiar with the plan had been replaced by others beholden to ’Amer. Moreover, Conqueror could not be implemented with so many of Egypt’s frontline troops far away in Yemen, an army report of December 1966 warned. Repeatedly over the first half of 1967, the general staff complained of the lack of funds necessary to defend Sinai, and strongly recommended against any further military confrontations. “There can be no war with Israel,” Gen. Fawzi declared, “the budget simply won’t allow it.”
Such admonitions failed to deter the field marshal, however. ‘Amer not only believed the army capable of repulsing an Israeli first strike, but insisted on mounting an offensive. His plan was Operation Lion (al-Asad), in which combined infantry, armored, and commando units would penetrate Israel and cut across the Negev to the Jordanian border, detaching the entire Eilat salient. The Egyptian navy would blockade the port from the south and prevent any reinforcements from the sea. Other plans stipulated an armoured thrust eastward along the Israeli coast—Operation Leopard (Fahd)—and Operation Arrow (Sahm), the aerial bombing of Israeli settlements opposite Gaza.11
As early as May 14, a battle order, number 67-5, was issued to forward air bases in Sinai. These cited specific targets—port facilities, power and radar stations—to be bombed over a sixteen-hour period upon receipt of the password “Lion.” Also distributed were aerial photographs of the area, most of which had been taken in World War II. One pilot, Hashem Mustafa Husayn, described pressing his commander on whether the objective of the attack was merely to destroy Eilat or the Jewish state in general:
A worried look came over the squadron commander’s face. He said that we must carry out the assignment without asking questions, and that is was imperative that we trust the supreme commanders who have a clear operational plan, and that because of issues of security and confidentiality, he cannot divulge anything else.12
The acquisition of a Negev land bridge was a long-standing goal of Egypt, as was the elimination of Eilat. In his al-Ahram editorials, Heikal oft
en called for the conquest of Eilat as a step toward Israel’s destruction. But any attempt to seize parts of southern Israel would almost certainly be frustrated by UNEF. For that reason, ’Amer wanted the force disbanded completely, and not merely removed from the border, as Nasser preferred. He planned to put offensive forces in Gaza, and to position troops on the shores of Tiran as well. Accordingly, the field marshal ordered paratrooper commander Gen. ‘Abd al-Mun‘im Khalil to quietly fly his units into sharm al-Sheikh and be ready to take control of the area by May 20. Senior generals—Fawzi, Murtagi, and Sidqi Mahmud—argued that such moves would force Egypt to close the Straits and incite the Israelis to war, but ‘Amer ignored their advice. “The High command has already decided to occupy Sharm-al-Sheikh,” he insisted, “and it’s the army’s job to implement the decision.”13
On the morning of May 16, as ‘Amer inspected Egyptian armor rolling into Sinai, Dr. Mahmoud Fawzi presented his draft of what was to be Gen. Fawzi’s letter to Rikhye:
To your information, I gave my instructions to all UAR armed forces to be ready for action against Israel, the moment it might carry out any aggressive action against any Arab country. Due to these instructions our troops are already concentrating in Sinai along our eastern border. For the sake of complete security of all UN troops which install Observation Posts along our borders, I request that you give orders to withdraw all of these troops immediately.
According to Heikal, the president found discrepancies between the Arabic and English versions of the letter, and replaced the word “withdraw” with “redeploy” and crossed out the “all” before “these troops.” His purpose, al-Ahram’s editor explained, was to prevent any misunderstanding regarding the continued presence of UNEF in Gaza and in Sharm al-Sheikh. Nasser purportedly asked ‘Amer to insert these changes into the final letter, only to be told that the letter was already being delivered, and that efforts would be made to intercept the courier. ‘Amer’s reply upset the president, though not unduly; ambiguities in the text could always be clarified with U Thant.14
Eviction
Occupying forty-one observation posts along the international border, in Sharm al-Sheikh and in Gaza, the United Nations Emergency Force numbered 4,500 men—Indians, Canadians, Yugoslavs, Swedes, Brazilians, Norwegians, and Danes—about half of its original contingent. Since 1957, UNEF had been subject to severe cutbacks in budget and personnel, together with skepticism from Western states disaffected by the UN’s increasingly pro-Soviet stance. Following the failure of other peacekeeping efforts, most notably in the Congo, little faith attended UNEF’s ability to prevent Egypt-Israeli hostilities, for indeed the force could only observe them once they broke out. Yet, for all its handicaps, the mere presence of UNEF had sufficed to deter warfare during periods of intense Arab-Israeli friction, to keep infiltrators from exiting Gaza and ensure free passage through the Straits of Tiran.15
That presence, however, hung on a legal fiction. The “good-faith agreement” forged by Dag Hammarskjold in 1957, according to which Egypt would consult with the General Assembly and the UNEF Advisory Council before altering the force’s mandate, was in no way binding. The Egyptians could, in fact, dismiss UNEF whenever they chose. This prerogative could be qualified only by arguing that the state of belligerency that UNEF restrained had never ceased to exist. In the words of India’s former UN ambassador, “a demand for withdrawal of the Force in order to battle effectively with the adversary was in
direct opposition to…the creation of the Force and its deployment in the area.” But even this reasoning was not expected to hold should Nasser decide on eviction. In his talks with both Egyptian and Israeli leaders, U Thant had been bluff: the option was solely Nasser’s.16
This was the assumption when, at ten o’clock on the sultry night of May 16, Brig. Gen. Ibrahim Sharqawy, Egypt’s military liaison to UNEF, informed Gen. Rikhye that a special courier had arrived from Cairo. Rikhye had already received reports of unusual troop movements over the Suez Canal, but had thought nothing of them. “It was the season for an exchange of verbal threats, demonstrations, parades…high tension.” Entering, the visitor introduced himself as Brig. Gen. ‘Izz al-Din Mukhtar, and promptly produced the letter drafted by Dr. Fawzi and signed by Gen. Fawzi. “I would like to have your reply at once,” Mukhtar said, and explained that UN forces would have to evacuate al-Sabha, a vital junction on the Israeli border, as well as Sharm al-Sheikh, that very night. Egyptian troops were already en route to those destinations, he warned, and attempts by UNEF to stop them could result in “clashes.”
Rikhye, forty-eight years old and from a Brahmin nationalist family in Lahore, had a rich and distinguished record of service with the British army in World War II and then with the UN in the Congo, New Guinea, and the Dominican Republic. He had also spent long periods in the Middle East, knew that UNEF’s mandate was “flimsy at best,” and that an Arab-Israeli war could erupt momentarily. Only weeks before, he had written U Thant a detailed memorandum urging him to undertake an emergency mediation mission. He never received an answer. Yet not even that snub was as shocking as Fawzi’s letter, which Rikhye took as a personal and professional blow. He asked the Egyptian brigadiers if they were aware of the consequences of their act.
“Oh, yes, sir!” Sharqawy replied, beaming, “We have arrived at this decision after much deliberation and are prepared for anything. If there is war, we shall next meet in Tel Aviv.”
Rikhye was also confused as to the exact nature of Egypt’s demands; the letter made no mention of either al-Sabha or Sharm al-Sheikh. It appeared as though Egypt wanted UNEF to remain in Gaza while pulling away from the border and the Straits of Tiran. He decided to play for time, telling his guests that he had no authority to order UNEF’s removal; it was not a military matter between generals, but a legal issue to be settled between Nasser and U Thant. UNEF’s chief then telegraphed the letter to UN headquarters in New York, and phoned the commanders of the battalions in al-Sabha and Sharm al-Sheikh, ordering them to stay in their posts for as long as possible but to refrain from using force, even if evicted.17
With the delay and the change in time zones, Fawzi’s letter reached U Thant’s desk early in the evening. With him was Ralph Bunche, no longer the dynamic mediator of the 1940s, now ill with cancer and diabetes, but still the international organization’s leading expert on Middle East diplomacy. His initial reaction to the crisis was optimism, assuring Goldberg that “there’s a great deal of face and political maneuvering involved, but with careful handling we might yet preserve the situation and UNEF’s role.” But Bunche fully adhered to the secretary-general’s position that Egypt had a sovereign right to dismiss UNEF, however imprudent that decision might be. Unfortunately for him, that consideration was not reciprocated by the Egyptians, who viewed Bunche as Washington’s lackey—an “agent of imperialism,” in Nasser’s words.
At 6:45, U Thant and Bunche summoned the Egyptian ambassador to the secretary-general’s office. “Dour and rigid,” according to one observer, gaunt and bald, Mohammad Awad El Kony had been a diplomat for forty of his sixty years, and, since the Egyptian Revolution, a staunch supporter of Nasser. “A noble man from a noble family, of high character,” Syria’s ambassador Tomeh described his Egyptian colleague, “he hated the thought of war.” But El Kony made no secret of his aversion to Bunche, and directed his attention to what U Thant, alone, had told him.
U Thant told him that Egypt had erred in treating UNEF as a military rather than a diplomatic issue; it was a matter to be settled between Nasser and the secretary-general. Nor could the force’s mandate be summarily altered or whittled down.
“UNEF cannot be asked to stand aside in order to enable the two sides to resume fighting,” he explained, “A request for the temporary withdrawal of UNEF would be considered tantamount to a request for the complete withdrawal of UNEF from Gaza and Sinai, since this would reduce UNEF to ineffectiveness.”
The good-faith agreement was mentioned repeatedly, as were t
he dangers of dismantling the force. There was no evidence of any impending Israeli attack, U Thant stressed. Having listed all these caveats, the secretary-general then arrived at his crux: “If it was the intention of the Government of the UAR to withdraw the consent which it gave in 1956 for the stationing of UNEF on UAR territory and in Gaza it is, of course, entitled to do so.”18
While insisting that it was not a good idea, the secretary-general had up-held Egypt’s right to evict UNEF peremptorily, and Nasser was swift to exercise it. He communicated his decision to Marshal Tito of Yugoslavia and India’s Indira Ghandi, both of whom, as predicted, agreed to pull their contingents from Sinai. At dawn the next morning, May 17, a troop of thirty Egyptian soldiers and three armored cars circumvented the Yugoslavian-manned observation post at al-Sabha and proceeded to the border. Rikhye protested this development to Sharqawy and in reply received another letter from Gen. Fawzi, advising him to remove all UN personnel from al-Sabha within twenty-four hours, and from Sharm al-Sheikh within forty-eight. And still the Egyptians came. By 1:00 that afternoon, the Egyptian contingent at al-Sabha had swelled to 100, with thirty vehicles, while a forward element had reportedly reached Kuntilla, in the south, as well.19
UNEF had been circumvented—at key points it was no longer observing the border but the Egyptian soldiers’ backs—and then hamstrung by two of its main contributors. Appraised of these developments, U Thant was more than ever reluctant to resist Nasser’s decision. He could not, he felt, go to the General Assembly, where the Communist and African-Asian blocs were certain to back Egypt, nor to the Security Council, paralyzed by Soviet and American vetoes. He feared that any attempt to hinder the Egyptian army could endanger the safety of UNEF personnel, and jeopardize future peacekeeping operations elsewhere. Though his own legal counsel firmly advised against taking the “radical action” of bending to Egypt’s ultimatum before consulting the relevant UN bodies, U Thant’s mind was made up. “It is inconceivable to me that once UAR consent for the presence of the Force was withdrawn, there could be any decision other than compliance with the request…” he later wrote, “In fact, the question of compliance was moot once the consent was terminated.” Among the greatest obstacles to UNEF’s survival, it seemed, was the secretary-general himself.20
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