The Third Cell

by Anthony D'Egidio

  Egyptian forces were still quite significant, but the Egyptian Minister of Defense, upon hearing of the defeat at Abu-Ageila, ordered all units in the Sinai to regroup at the Suez Canal. The Israeli Army bypassed the retreating units and rushed to the mountain passes that the Egyptian Army had to transverse. Several Egyptian units were destroyed, with the remaining escaping to cross the Suez Canal.

  The joint Israeli forces of the army, navy and air force had captured the Sinai Peninsula, defeating the largest Arab army in the Middle East. With air superiority and coordinated attack by Israel forces, combined with the chaos within the command of the Egyptian Army, it was a humiliating defeat. On the West Bank, similar success would be achieved.

  June 5, 1967: Jordanian forces began shelling the Israeli side of Jerusalem while the Jordanian Air Force, which had less than twenty-five planes, attacked Israeli airfields. The initial attacks were not successful and inflicted very little damage. The Israeli Air Force counterattacked later that day, destroying the entire Jordanian Air Force.

  June 7, 1967: Israel encircled Jerusalem with its armored units and paratroopers and attacked the Jordanian forces. Heavy fighting ensued as Israeli paratroopers entered the Old City and the rest of Jerusalem. Air dominance was a key factor in overwhelming the Jordanian forces, which had in many cases superior equipment. The Israeli forces had captured the entire West Bank including Ramallah and were advancing on the East Bank of the Jordan River. The Israeli forces only withdrew back to the West Bank when intense political pressure from the United States forced them to retreat.

  After the success of destroying the Egyptian Air Force and Jordanian Air Force, the Israeli command attacked the Syrian Air Force, destroying over two-thirds of the planes.

  The Israeli Air Force had complete dominance of air space in the entire conflict arena. Several Syrian tanks were destroyed at the Jordan River. Syrian artillery began a massive shelling of Israeli towns from the Golan Heights.

  June 9, 1967: Israeli forces attacked the Syrian Army in the Golan Heights. The Golan Heights were strategically important not only because the Syrian Army could rain down artillery inside Israel, but the Heights offered a formidable buffer zone between the Israeli Army and Damascus. By the end of the day, with the help of massive air attacks, the Israeli Army had broken into the plateau. The Syrian Army abandoned most of its positions and was in a disorganized retreat.

  June 10, 1967: Additional Israeli forces had entered the plateau only to find that the Syrians had taken flight.

  Mahmoud and his sons were working on the construction of a trucking garage. The garage was located out of town, amongst many small farms of sheep, goats or chickens, where the soil was hard and water was scarce. The proprietor of the trucking company had made a very good living transporting produce from the farms in Israel to the Jordanian cities. It was a bittersweet relationship since Israel, having captured the Palestinian land that had been non-productive for centuries, was a showplace of irrigation farming in the Middle East. Vast tracts of land were green with every imaginable vegetable or fruit to the immense displeasure of the displaced Palestinians.

  “Soon this fertile land, stolen from my fellow countrymen, will be returned to its rightful owners,” Mahmoud announced to his sons.

  In the past few days the work had gone very slowly with most of their time being spent at the café watching news of the war. With Jordan in the thick of the battle, their interest had been raised to a new peak. In the distance they could hear the sound of artillery, which for three days had been almost ceaseless. But now the echo of the barrages was becoming less in duration and this had to be a good sign.

  Mahmoud proudly looked at the labor of his sons. Their sun-darkened bodies had been shaped firm and strong from spending most of their adolescent years working as stonemasons and carpenters alongside their father. Even though they were twins they were very different. Ahman was outgoing and politically active. He voiced his opposition to Israel and the Zionist every day, as he had aligned himself with a small political group founded in Egypt called ‘Muslims For Justice’ that advocated the return of all Israeli land to its rightful owners, the displaced Palestinians.

  Hussam, on the other hand, was the pacifist, who at one time contemplated being a priest. Hussam’s easygoing nature was one of live and let live. His philosophy was: what has happened in the past should not be an obstruction to the future.

  The sound of mechanized equipment from behind the farm near the construction site startled the men. In the distance they could see a column of tanks approaching.

  Ahman waved his arms furiously in the air, shouting as he ran towards the tanks, “It’s the Iraqi’s coming to liberate us from the Zionist.”

  Mahmoud and Hussam were walking briskly in the direction that Ahman had so rapidly covered. Catching up to Ahman, all three men stopped.

  A tank commander in an Israeli uniform opened the hatch, shouting. “Return to your homes now!”

  Ahman was bewildered. These are not Iraqi tanks; there are no Iraqis or Syrian troops. It was the Israeli Army once again taking over the rightful ownership of Palestinian land and property. Anger and betrayal showed on his face and in his eyes. The Arab armies hadn’t destroyed Israel as he had heard on the news reports. Once again the Arab countries, with all their might, couldn’t defeat Israel.

  How can this be? Are the Arab countries nothing but nations of cowards? Where is the will to fight to the death for what is rightfully ours?

  Ahman shook his head in disbelief about the tragedy. There was only one course to take and he would be in control of his own destiny.

  Ahman turned to his father and brother. “I vow never again to rely upon nations who had neither backbone nor the will to fight to the death. Never again will the Jews humiliate me or my fellow Palestinian brothers. I will see blood of the Zionist darken the soil of the earth, or I would die in the struggle for freedom of my people.”

  Mahmoud and Hussam tried to calm him down, but he continued his rant and they just left him alone.

  June 11, 1967: Only six days from the start of the hostilities, a peace treaty was signed. The Israeli Defense Forces had defeated a combined Arab force of over four hundred fifty thousand troops, three thousand tanks and four hundred and fifty planes.

  The Israeli Air Force only lost fifteen of its planes. It was estimated that Israel had seven hundred personnel killed and three thousand wounded during the conflict, while the combined Arab casualties were over fifteen thousand. The Israeli territory had grown by more than three hundred percent, with strategic territory captured and over one million Arabs under their control.

  The compete destruction and rout of the combined Arab forces was an embarrassment and humiliation to all of the Arab World. The Israeli Armed Forces handed the Arab nations not only a military, but also a huge psychological defeat.

  The humiliation furthered the cause and helped give rise to the radical Muslim fundamentalists, whose message to the Palestinians was to shun the ways of the West for the literal and traditional interpretation of the Qur’an. The radical Muslim clergy advocated the destruction of Israel and the return of Palestine to its rightful owners. Further hate was instilled in the Arab world by allegations, that the United States and the British took part in the war on the side of Israel by providing air strikes and intelligence reports. The Muslim radicals continued to stir up anger against the Western Powers and Israel by painting a picture of conspiracy between the Zionist and the Great Satan, the United States.

  CHAPTER 6

  BLACK SEPTEMBER, 1970

  The years passed quickly for Mahmoud and his children. Growing up within the compound of a Catholic Church had presented his children with a unique and special relationship with religion and the teachings of the Catholic Church. Attending the parochial school only furthered their belief in Christianity during their youth.

  Ahman and Hussam were grown young men, nineteen years of age. They each worked with their father from a very early age. Le
arning the trade, they eventually joined their father’s business, taking over the burden of labor allowing their father to handle the sales and financial transactions.

  Hussam met a Syrian woman at a religious retreat. Adara, only sixteen, was a tall, slim, dark-eyed beauty that had instantly taken his heart. She was wise and gentle and he knew that he would never meet a finer woman in his life. They shared a deep religious affirmation of their faith and this bond was the underlying strength of their relationship. Within a year they were married.

  Tuesday, March 22, 1966: Adara gave birth to a son whom they named Nasih, which meant Advisor.

  Ahman, Hussam’s brother, didn’t have time for women. He spent ten to twelve hours a day dedicated to running the business.

  The events of the Six Day War led to the rise of Yasser Arafat as the leader of the Palestinian Liberation Organization and his political party called Fatah in 1969. Fatah had amassed a large radical group of young Arab men who advocated the destruction of Israel and waged a war of terrorism upon the Jewish state. Yasser Arafat’s tactics were widely supported by the majority of Palestinians.

  The PLO had many armed camps in Jordan in which they carried out attacks on Israel, leading to massive retaliation by Israel upon the Jordanian territories. The PLO controlled large areas of the border between Jordan and the occupied Palestinian territories. This led to clashes between the Jordanian Army and the PLO. Lawlessness was rampant. Extortion, kidnappings and murder were daily occurrences.

  The violence came to a head in early September 1970, with several failed attempts upon King Hussein’s life.

  September 6, 1970: The Popular Front for the Liberation of Palestine, founded in 1953 by Dr. George Habash, a Palestinian Christian, joined the PLO in 1968. The two organizations orchestrated the hijackings of three airlines. They included Pan Am, TWA, and Swissair.

  September 9, 1970: The PFLP hijacked a fourth plane, a B.O.C.A. flight from Bombay to Rome.

  The PFLP unsuccessfully tried to have thousands of political prisoners released from Israeli jails. The standoff lasted six days with the Israelis, who had a no-negotiation policy with terrorists. The hijackings captured world attention but instead of gaining sympathy for the Palestinian cause, it painted the PFLP and the PLO as terrorist organizations and world opinion turned against them.

  September 12, 1970: Faced with the dilemma of losing support and no movement on release of the prisoners, the PFLP blew up three of the planes. The PFLP had released all but the Jewish passengers, who had been moved to a secret location.

  September 16, 1970: The action of the PFLP and the PLO forced King Hussein to declare martial law, putting Jordan in direct conflict with the PLO. The events that followed were a bloody and humiliating defeat for the PLO. Jordanian Army troops launched several attacks with planes, tanks and armored personnel upon several of the PLO’s refugee camps. The onslaught was later to be called Black September, in which thousands of Palestinian civilians, along with the PLO guerrillas, were killed.

  Hussam downshifted to second gear as he maneuvered the aging 1955 Fiat around the curve of the mountain road, the fifteen-year-old engine straining to make every hill.

  Hussam, Adara and their son, Nasih were returning to Ramallah from Da&341#; Ǎ, Syria, just across the border from Jordan.

  “It was so good to see Johara,” Adara said, speaking of her younger sister, who was leaving to attend college in London. It would be four long years before they would see each other again and even though Adara was seven months pregnant, she insisted on making the trip to see her sister.

  It was a grueling journey with many mountainous passes and poor road conditions. Hussam worried about the strain being too much for his wife and the unborn child.

  Nasih, for the first time, had met and visited with his aunt Johara for a wonderful five days.

  Passing through Irbid, Jordan, Adara said, “That sounds like heavy gunfire.”

  Hussam nodded but didn’t stop to find out what the commotion was about and gunned the engine to accelerate the Fiat past the town, heading for the Israeli border thirty kilometers away.

  Turning to Adara he voiced his concern, “There must be some internal battle between rival factions of the PLO and I want to avoid it and get us to the border as quickly as possible. Thank God that Father Bruno obtained permission for us to travel through Israel.”

  The road had become hilly and the curves intense as Hussam maneuvered the vehicle around the numerous potholes in the road.

  Adara felt a sharp pain in her abdomen and let out a cry.

  Hussam turned to her. “What happened?”

  “I think something’s wrong with the baby. He’s been kicking for the past hour, but this is the first time I’ve felt such pain.”

  Anguish rushed through Hussam’s body, for he knew he was over fifty kilometers from any major city, the closest being Afula in Israel. He was in a predicament: if he sped up the car, the road conditions would add to Adara’s plight, and if he slowed down, it would delay the time he could get her to a hospital.

  In what seemed like an eternity, he finally saw the signs announcing the border with Israel and all the restrictions that came with the crossing. The checkpoint was a kilometer before the bridge that crossed the Jordan River. They were a half-kilometer from the checkpoint when all traffic was at a halt. Waiting in line for half an hour they moved only three car lengths.

  Hussam asked a local Jordanian man who was leading a donkey and cart away from the checkpoint, “What’s the problem?”

  “Haven’t you heard? War broke out between the Jordanian Army and the PLO. No one is being allowed over the border.”

  Hussam, hearing Adara’s moans, was very nervous. “My wife may be going into labor. I need to get to Afula as soon as possible.”

  The man shook his head. “I doubt you’re going to Israel in the near future.”

  “Then I’ll go back to Irbid and get help there.” The man looked at him in disbelief. “That’s impossible. The Jordanian Army is in full battle with the PLO in Irbid and soon the Syrians will be coming in defense of the PLO. This is a full blown civil war with no end in sight.”

  Hussam could hear the sound of his heart pounding. “But I need to get my wife to a hospital and the only safe place is in Israel.”

  The old man scratched his head then pointed east. “Well, there’s one way that may work. About two kilometers east is an old unpaved road that leads around the checkpoint, mostly used by sheep and goat herders. It’s still accessible if you drive slowly.”

  “Thank you.” Hussam maneuvered the car around, heading back towards Irbid. As he turned on the dirt road heading west Nasih, who had been sleeping on the rear seat, woke up.

  The road was in terrible condition, but within fifteen minutes Hussam had passed the point where he was stopped and it was clear that he could get by the checkpoint. He would be back on the main road just before the bridge crossing at the Jordan River.

  The car shook when the first exploding shell hit about forty meters in front of them. Hussam was petrified as he halted the vehicle. He knew his wife and child were in extreme danger. Hussam didn’t have time to think about his next move as the second shell hit just behind the car, tossing it into the air like a toy, landing almost straight up with the rear wheels entirely off the ground.

  The force of slamming into the earth compressed Hussam into the steering column, instantly crushing his chest and heart. His body laid on the horn with its eerie sound, piercing the countryside. Adara plummeted through the windshield, lacerating her face and neck with hundreds of pieces of glass. She lay partially out of the car, her blood pouring over the hood of the Fiat. Nasih was thrown against the rear door, striking his head on the window crank.

  Dazed, Nasih struggled to lift himself up enough to witness the horrific scene that lay before him. He called repeatedly, “Abee, Abee. (Father, Father.)” But Hussam did not respond. He shook his mother, calling out “Uma, Uma. (Mother, Mother.)” But she didn’
t stir. His little body shook from fright as his eyes kept going over the bloodbath. He tried to comprehend what had happened to his father and mother. The last thing he heard were shouts in a strange language from men approaching the car as he passed out.

  Nasih Mahmoud Rahman laid half dazed and hearing again the strange words being spoken. It was the first time in two days that he had regained consciousness.

  Turning his head slowly he felt a sharp pain as he surveyed his surroundings. It was a small plain room painted in white, with three additional beds that were empty. Sunlight streamed through the opaque window restricting his view to the outside. He tried to comprehend where he was and the reason he was here.

  Two people dressed in white came into the room, again speaking a strange language. Nasih just stared at them.

  The female turning towards Nasih spoke in Arabic. “I see you’re finally awake and have come back to join us.”

  In Hebrew she said to the man standing next to her, “Doctor, I think he’s very confused and I may need to spend some time with him.”

  The doctor approached Nasih and gently removed the gauze from his head. “The stitches are holding well. In another couple of days we’ll remove them. Leave off the bandage and clean the wound three times a day. Hopefully he’ll not lie on that side when he sleeps.”

  All of this was very strange to Nasih. He knew where the doctor touched his head caused great pain. He was very tired and fell back into a disturbing sleep. The pain that invaded his body would be from the nightmare he would experience for the rest of his life, with the distorted image of his mother’s bloody face, his father’s limp body and the sound of the car horn echoing in his mind. This image took a distorted and bizarre form. In his sleep he cried out, “Uma, Uma.”