Sèvres Protocol

by David Lee Corley

  “I love you too, Coyle. We’ll be together again soon. I promise,” said Brigitte.

  “When you get back maybe I’ll take you to that bistro you like. Get ya some more of those snails you’re so found of.”

  “You mean the one where we took Bruno?”

  “Yeah, that one.”

  “Maybe we could invite him. We had such a nice time.”

  “I suppose.”

  Brigitte could see Coyle was put off by the suggestion of Bruno. “What is it with you and Bruno? I know you’re friends.”

  “I suppose we are. But when it comes to you… he’s still your ex-lover.”

  “Coyle, if I wanted to be with Bruno, I would be with Bruno. It’s you I love. You have nothing to worry about. He’s just a friend.”

  “… that you once shared a bed with.”

  “Do you really want to discuss this now?” she said wrapping her arms around his neck.

  “No. You’re right. I’ll see you back in Paris.”

  “Bye, Coyle.”

  “Goodbye, Brigitte.”

  They kissed deeply. Coyle boarded the plane. The plane revved its engines and took off across the desert floor. As it approached the end of the valley, it lifted into the air. It flew over the convoy and Coyle waved its wings as if to say good-bye one last time. The plane banked in a gentle circle and headed northeast toward the Israeli border. After a moment, it disappeared over a mountain. Brigitte felt strangely sad, almost remorseful. She didn’t like the feeling. It scared her.

  October 30, 1956 – Sinai Desert, Egypt

  Israeli Lieutenant Alon Hirschfeld was flying his Gloster Meteor jet fighter at eight thousand feet when he first spotted the cargo aircraft below. He was alone. His wingman had engine trouble early on their mission and had to turn back to Israel. Hirschfeld elected to continue the mission rather than turn back. It was important. A small convoy of Egyptian troops had been spotted along the canal just outside the city of Tor. It was his mission to destroy the convoy before it crossed the Suez Canal. The Israelis knew that any troops that escaped their initial assault would need to be faced at a later time, possibly during an invasion of Israel itself.

  Hirschfeld’s sister had married a farmer and moved to a small town near the Israeli-Egypt border. She and her two-year old son were killed during a Fedayeen attack. To him, this mission was an opportunity for revenge.

  He had found the Egyptian troops traveling along a road paralleling the canal just a few miles from the chain ferry that would take them across to the safety of the western side with its anti-aircraft guns. He swooped down and fired all sixteen of his 60lb rockets with armor-piercing warheads. It was overkill. The vehicles were trucks and jeeps with only one armored car. He destroyed the lead and the rear vehicles on his first pass, killing the occupants and blocking in the other vehicles in the convoy. The next pass was straight up the center of the convoy. He flew low to improve his aim. He hadn’t seen any anti-aircraft weapons in the convoy and even if he had, he was sure he would destroy them in the next thirty seconds. He annihilated six more vehicles with his remaining rockets. The explosions from the TNT-packed warheads were powerful and send shrapnel flying in all directions killing the drivers and passengers. The third pass was a strafing run meant to kill as many troops as possible. He fired half of the shells in his four 20-mm Hispano cannons mounted in the nose of his aircraft before he realized he had run out of targets. Nothing was moving below and all the vehicles were burning. He was sure there would be some Egyptian soldiers playing dead until the air assault was over but he didn’t care. He had killed enough to satisfy the loss of his sister and nephew. He headed back to Israel. He had waited a long time for a war… for revenge.

  It was on the return flight that he saw Coyle’s Boxcar flying below him. It was headed northeast. He flew down behind it to take a closer look.

  He flew directly behind the aircraft so as not to spook the pilot or crew. He had never seen a C-119 before and was sure that there was no such aircraft in the Israeli Air Force. He wasn’t as sure about the wing and tail markings. He knew they weren’t Israeli but they didn’t look Egyptian either. He also eliminated French and British aircraft. It was possible that it was an Egyptian ally plane or a commercial aircraft drafted into service by the Egyptians. It was a big cargo plane capable of carrying several platoons of Egyptian troops. He wasn’t sure if the Egyptian forces had paratroopers but he wasn’t going to take any chances. The unknown aircraft was heading toward Israel and that made it a threat. His rockets were gone but he still had half of his 20-mm ammunition. That would be enough for the slow flying propeller-driven plane.

  Coyle was relaxed now that he knew Brigitte was safe. He knew she could take care of herself but she was in a war zone and just seeing her made him feel better about life. He loved her. It wouldn’t be long before he would pop the question and ask her to marry him. He just needed the right opportunity. The Spanish crew was chit-chatting among themselves when the co-pilot saw the first tracer rounds streak past his side window. He turned to warn Coyle when several rounds pierced the cockpit tearing him to shreds. Blood splattered across the windshield.

  Coyle reacted, banking the plane hard in the opposite direction and increasing the engine throttles to their maximum position. There was nothing he could do for his co-pilot, who was now headless. His heart was pounding, adrenaline pumping through his body. As the aircraft turned he looked out the side window and caught a glimpse of the fighter jet pursing him. He could tell by the insignia that it was Israeli. “Son of a bitch. It’s Israeli,” said Coyle turning to his engineer. “Get on the radio. Find his frequency and call him off.”

  “Que?” said the engineer.

  “R-A-D-I-O, damn it. Use the radio,” said Coyle making hand signals.

  The engineer finally understood and used the radio. He twisted the dials in increments trying to find the frequency of the Israeli pilot. He was speaking Spanish into the headset but was sure the pilot would understand that the aircraft was not Egyptian if he could only find the frequency.

  The Israeli jet dove down for another attack. This time he sighted the cargo hold of the aircraft where he thought the paratroopers were located. He fired again.

  Inside the cargo hold, the wounded Israeli soldiers watched in horror as 20-mm shells punched golf ball sized holes in the fuselage. Five of the wounded soldiers were torn to pieces. There was no surviving the large caliber bullets when they hit flesh and bone. The wounds were massive. There was nothing the medic could do but hang on and pray.

  Coyle took his aircraft as low as possible, hugging the desert. He saw a small mountain range and headed straight for it. More rounds punched into the cockpit and killed the engineer on the radio. Only Coyle and the navigator were left. The navigator was strapped in his seat and crossing himself while reciting Hail Mary’s. Coyle heard an explosion on the right side of the aircraft. He couldn’t see the engine from where he was sitting. Instead he looked down at his oil pressure gauges. The right gauge spun to zero. He turned to the navigator. “Look out the window. The right engine,” said Coyle, motioning with his hands.

  The navigator nodded that he understood, unstrapped and moved toward the right window. He used the sleeve of his flight jacket to wipe away the blood splatter and looked out. The right engine was on fire. He turned back to Coyle and made a cut-throat sign. “Shit,” said Coyle pulling the right throttle back to starve the fire of fuel.

  Two more shells shattered the front windshield, barely missing Coyle’s head. Coyle knew that the navigator didn’t understand what he was saying but he felt like he should tell someone what he planned on doing just in case they wanted to object. “We are sitting ducks up here. A few more passes and he’ll kill us for sure. I gotta put her down,” said Coyle to the navigator busy strapping himself back in.

  Coyle studied the terrain below. The aircraft was approaching the mountain range. There was a mouth to what he assumed was a canyon. If I can wedge her inside that canyon
we might stand a chance, he thought.

  The navigator saw what Coyle was doing. “Tren de aterrizaje. Tren de aterrizaje,” said the navigator signaling the landing gear with his hands.

  “No. The ground is uneven. If our landing gear hits a boulder or rut, we’ll cartwheel. The cargo hold will tear off. Everyone in back dies. We land on her belly. It’s safer,” said Coyle making hand motions.

  “No. No. Tren de aterrizaje.”

  “Trust me. I have a lot of experience at crashing,” said Coyle waving off the navigator.

  The navigator cursed in Spanish, abandoning his argument, and went back to his prayers. Coyle guided the nose of the aircraft into the center of the canyon mouth. At the last second, he pulled the nose up and let the twin tails of the aircraft touch down first. The fuselage was forced down and slapped the ground. The plane was still moving at over one hundred miles an hour when the two wings hit the sides of the canyon walls and ripped off. The wing fuel tanks exploded sending balls of flame into the sky followed by dense black smoke. The fuselage was protected against the explosion and flames by the rock walls as it continued to slide on its belly deeper into the canyon. The fuselage came to a stop as it ran out of room and wedged itself between the two canyon walls.

  The Israeli pilot saw the explosion as the aircraft entered the canyon. He wasn’t satisfied. He banked his jet and went in for a closer look.

  Coyle sat in his pilot’s chair. He was bleeding from a cut on his forehead and he felt like he may have a couple of broken ribs from the safety straps that held him in place during crash. He was alive. He would see Brigitte again. He shook off his malaise and slipped off his safety harness. “You okay?” he said to the navigator.

  “Estoy bien,” said the navigator unbuckling himself from his seat.

  “We gotta get out of here,” said Coyle moving toward the doorway into the cargo hold. The navigator followed him. The doorway was jammed closed when the airframe bent inward as the fuselage wedge itself into the canyon. Coyle kicked the door open. What he saw shocked him.

  Most of the wounded soldiers were dead either from the enemy aircraft barrages or from being pummeled to death in their beds when the fuselage walls had crushed inward on impact. The Spanish cargo boss was still strapped in his seat with his leg blown off at the hip. He had bled to death. His assistant, an eighteen-year-old Spaniard, knelt by him and was crying as he tried to stop the bleeding. The navigator gently pulled the boy away and pushed him toward the back of the plane. The Israeli medic was still alive and attempting to treat the survivors. “We’ve got to get the survivors out. Now,” said Coyle.

  “I can’t move these men. They’ll die. Take anyone that can still move and get them out. I’ll stay with the others,” said the medic.

  Coyle nodded. There wasn’t time to argue. He ran to the back of the fuselage and opened the cargo hold doors on the back of the aircraft. They too were jammed shut. He kicked at them, but they didn’t budge. The navigator joined him kicking at the doors. Coyle turned to the survivors that could still move. “You wanna live?” said Coyle.

  They joined him kicking and pushing. One of the doors moved a little and created an opening. Sunlight poured through into the cargo hold. Coyle grabbed a torn piece of tubing from one of the crushed beds and used it as a pry bar to force the door open. It opened enough that the men could slip out. Coyle went out first so he could help the others.

  Above, the Israeli pilot saw through the black smoke that the fuselage was wedged into the canyon and was still intact. He figured he had enough ammunition for one last strafing run to finish off any survivors. He lined up his jet and opened fire.

  The bullets pelted the ground in back of the aircraft and marched forward toward the fuselage. Coyle turned and watched as the stream of bullets moved straight toward him. There was no time to move. “Brigitte,” said Coyle as he closed his eyes and prepared to die.

  The jet’s cannon ceased firing. The aircraft had run out of ammunition. The Israeli pilot cursed. He turned his aircraft toward home.

  Coyle heard the bullets stop hitting the ground. He opened his eyes. It was still. He heard the jet passing overhead, the sound of its engine fading in the distance. He was fairly sure he was still alive but not certain until the cargo hold door swung open and hit him in the back of the head. The first wounded Israeli squeezed through the opening. Coyle snapped out of it and helped the man. He wasn’t sure what had happened but there was no time to think. Right now, people were in danger and it was his job as the pilot to figure out how to get them to safety.

  EIGHT

  October 30, 1956 - Mediterranean Sea

  Major Tamsyn stood on the bridge and watched the horizon as the Ibrahim made its way along the Egyptian coast. The destroyer’s anti-aircraft guns were kept pointed in the direction of Israel. It was the Israeli jets the crew feared most. It was unlikely the Israeli warships would risk an attack while the Ibrahim was so close to the Egyptian coastline and still under the protection of the artillery batteries on shore.

  The Israeli Air Force was much more brazen and the pilots would risk all if they thought they could sink one of the few destroyers in the Egyptian navy. It was the Egyptian destroyers that were the biggest threat to Israeli commercial shipping and often boarded ships to inspect for weapons and harass the crews. If caught in the open ocean the Ibrahim would be seen as a target of opportunity and get strafed by the Israeli fighters. It was unlikely that one or two fighters could sink her, but the jets’ machine guns and unguided air-to-surface missiles could inflict terrible damage on the crew of the lightly-armed vessel.

  It wasn’t long before the ship’s lookout spotted multiple vessels on the northwestern horizon. They were out of radar range and the Egyptian destroyer was headed in the opposite direction. The approaching ships were too far off to visually identify from which country they hailed. Tamsyn ordered his radio operator to report the sighting to naval command on shore in Alexandria.

  Unknown to Tamsyn, it was the first sighting of the British-French invasion fleet approaching Port Said. These ships were in addition to the French and British vessels already stationed in the eastern Mediterranean. The Egyptian navy was vastly outnumbered and outgunned. The Egyptian crews were no match for the well-trained French and British crews.

  As the Ibrahim approached the Israeli coastline, it changed course and made its way farther out to sea to avoid being spotted by Israeli lookout posts on shore. Israeli patrol boats were also less likely to venture too far from the shore and the protection of the Israeli artillery batteries.

  As per the agreement with the French and British, the Israeli warships in the area had been ordered to steer clear of the approaching fleet. Neither of the three conspiring nations wanted to risk a confrontation with the uninformed ship captains. As far as the captains of the vessels were concerned, they were on a war footing and would see any approaching vessel as a potential threat. Until the ultimatum expired, the best policy was to keep the two sides well apart from each other.

  The three Israeli ships in the area were also decommissioned WWII hand-me-downs from Western navies - the INS Yaffo, a Z-class British destroyer, her sister ship INS Eilat, and a Canadian River class frigate, INS Miznak. The two Z-class destroyers were the most capable warships in the Israeli fleet. At four and a half inches, both ships’ main guns were larger that the guns on the Ibrahim and their gunnery radar was more advanced. It was a small miracle that the Ibrahim was not spotted by the Israeli vessels as they moved away from the British-French fleet.

  October 30, 1956 – Rafah, Gaza and Rafah, Egypt

  The city of Rafah was important to both the Egyptians and the Israelis. Rafah was a border city split into two parts. Half of Rafah was located on the southern end of the Gaza Strip, a Palestinian territory. The other half of the city was in the northern Sinai and therefore part of Egypt. It was a strategic supply route for the Fedayeen as they carried out their cross-border raids on Israeli settlements. Being allies of the Palest
inians, the Egyptians naturally stationed troops in the Gaza Strip. The Egyptian forces located at Rafah discouraged Israeli forces from retaliatory strikes against the Fedayeen hideouts. It was a powder keg to war.

  The Israelis saw their assault into the Sinai as an opportunity to cut off the Gaza Strip from Egyptian forces and destroy the Fedayeen encampments.

  In addition to cutting off the Gaza Strip, Rafah was also the eastern anchor to the northern highway that paralleled the Mediterranean coastline. Any attack from northern Egyptian forces would need to go through Rafah to reach Israel. Rafah was a natural blocking point to any Egyptian or Israeli invasion.

  Recognizing the importance of the city, Dayan assigned two brigades the task of capturing Rafah - Israeli 1st Infantry Brigade commanded by Colonel Benjamin Givli and 27th Armored Brigade commanded by Colonel Haim Barlev.

  The Egyptians also saw Rafah as the key to the Gaza Strip and to their plans to attack Israel at some point in the near future. The Gaza Strip elongated the border between Egypt and Israel. The Egyptians could station military units inside the Gaza Strip during peace that could quickly strike deep into Israeli territory during a war. It made any Egyptian assault much more effective and made the Israelis think twice before starting any conflict. The Egyptian reinforced 5th Infantry Brigade was stationed at Rafah and commanded by Brigadier General Jaafar al-Abd. The 87th Palestinian Infantry Brigade was used as a reserve. The Egyptians were well armed with artillery and anti-tank batteries. They also had a squadron of Sherman tanks that gave them a small but mobile armor punch that could counterattack if required.

  Al-Abd deployed most of his forces five miles to the south of Rafah. The geography of the area transformed the desert into a defensible salient with few avenues of attack. Dunes protected the southern flank of the salient. The Egyptians placed minefields on both sides of the dunes to protect their southern flank for several miles. In the center of the salient were eighteen small hills that provided a series of high points and concealment for his troops. The Egyptians had built a series of trenches and bunkers on each hill and surrounded them with barbed wire and well-positioned minefields. Artillery and anti-tank guns overlapped their firing zones so that all points within the defensive zone could be defended from multiple angles.