“That is one hell of a message.”
“It is meant to be. He must understand there are consequences for helping the FLN and the other underground Algerian organizations that seek to harm France.”
“Interesting diplomacy. And if the Americans and the British find out?”
“See that they don’t. It would not bode well for either of our nations.”
“I shall make a list of the weapons we require.”
Bourgès-Maunoury opened a folder on his desk. He pulled out a typed list and handed it to Perez. “I was thinking this might be a good start,” he said.
Perez read down the list. “Yes. A very good start. You are prepared to sell us the listed items?”
“Yes,” said Bourgès-Maunoury. “It has already been cleared with the Prime Minister and the required members of Parliament.”
Perez contained his elation. It was a very good day for Israel.
“There is one other thing I wish to discuss,” said Bourgès-Maunoury.
“Of course,” said Perez.
“Have you ever considered invading the Sinai?” said Bourgès-Maunoury.
“You are serious?”
“Let’s just say I am curious… for the moment.”
Perez’s mind was racing. What was Bourgès-Maunoury up to? The invasion of another country was not a subject for casual conversation.
“Israel could achieve many objectives by invading Sinai. It would give Nasser a bloody nose. He and the other Arab leaders would think twice before attacking Israel,” said Perez.
“I thought as much. Maybe you should consider it more aggressively and get back to me.”
“As you wish. I will bring it up with the Prime Minister on my return,” said Perez.
“Have a safe flight,” said Bourgès-Maunoury rising to escort him out.
Perez walked out of the French Defense Ministry. His head was spinning. Hundreds of questions whirling around in his mind. Brigitte was waiting with a photographer. “Minister Perez, what are doing visiting our Defense Ministry?” said Brigitte.
“I am not answering any questions at this time,” said Perez.
“With whom did you meet? Was it Minister Bourgès-Maunoury?” said Brigitte refusing to let up. “What did you discuss?”
A sedan pulled up to the curb. Perez moved toward it. The photographer snapped a photo of Perez as he was getting into the back of the sedan. “That was not smart,” said Perez.
Two Mossad agents jumped out of the sedan and grabbed the photographer by the arms. “The camera,” said one of the agents.
The photographer refused and received a punch in the gut. He fell to the ground clutching his stomach. The agent took the camera, opened the back and ripped out the film. “This is France, not Israel. You cannot do that,” said Brigitte.
“File a complaint with our embassy,” said the Mossad agent as he pulled out his bill fold and peeled off several U.S. dollars, tossing them to the ground in front of the photographer. “For the film. Sorry about the cheap shot.”
The two Mossad agents climbed into the sedan and it sped off. “Fucking Nazis,” said Brigitte kneeling to help her photographer, curled up in a ball on the ground.
TWO
May 20, 1956 - Brussels, Belgium
Sir Anthony Eden sat with Dwight Eisenhower – the American President – in the lounge at NATO headquarters in Brussels. They had just finished a meeting with the heads of state to discuss the growing Soviet threat and the new Warsaw pact. Eden had asked Eisenhower for a few minutes after the meeting for a private conversation.
Eisenhower did not trust Eden, but he did respect him. Winston Churchill had always been a force to be reckoned with when Eisenhower was given the command of directing allied forces in the invasion of Europe during World War II. Eden was Churchill’s right-hand man and therefore often charged with delivering bad news to Eisenhower. It was not a pleasant task and Eisenhower knew it. When it was finally time for Churchill to retire from public life, Eden had been asked to fill his shoes, so to speak, and that was not a minor task.
Britain was one of America’s oldest allies and a key player in the new NATO alliance. America needed Britain and Britain needed America. It was that simple. The two countries had a special relationship and neither took that responsibility lightly. But just because they needed each other did not mean that they always agreed. Britain was still an empire with colonies around the world. America had fought a revolution to be freed from that empire and was naturally supportive of other countries that sought their freedom. Britain’s leaders understood the sentiment but also saw it as somewhat of a betrayal. Britain and America were allies and allies were supposed to support each other through thick and thin. America was not holding up its part of the bargain when it criticized Britain for continuing its imperialistic traditions.
Eden was a nationalist. His focus was on Britain, not the world or even Europe. There were times when Eden had a holier-than-thou tone in his voice that sounded very much like a father lecturing a child, especially when he was dealing with third world nations. Even so, Eden was a respected diplomat and a strong spokesman for any cause he chose to support. He was the elected leader of one of the world’s greatest powers and, like Churchill, a force to be reckoned with.
Eisenhower knew that Europe would need to remain united if it was going to fend off Russian aggression and the communist threat. He just wasn’t sure Eden was the right man for that particular job. Eden had a reputation for being inflexible once he started down a path and a tendency to piss people off. Eisenhower also knew that one does not get to pick one’s friends in the world of diplomacy. One way or another, Eisenhower would need to find a way to deal with Eden.
Eden liked Eisenhower, and he trusted him. Eisenhower was a man of principle and had an easy-going manner about him. He was intelligent and well-organized, much like Eden. However, Eden did not respect Eisenhower the way others did. Eden had heard Churchill complain about Eisenhower too many times to think otherwise. He knew Eisenhower could be indecisive and he saw that as a flaw especially in international politics. Eden believed that Eisenhower got too much credit for his role in leading the invasions of North Africa and Europe during World War II. By some historians’ recollection, it seemed like Eisenhower had won the war single-handedly. Eden knew otherwise. He had lived through the German blitz on England. He had been with Churchill when all seemed lost. If Britain had given up hope, America would probably never have entered the war and the world would have been lost to the fascists. It was Britain, not America, that anchored the allied effort and it was Churchill, not Eisenhower, that stood against the Nazi storm. Historians were often fooled by a good story and a popular figure. Eden believed Eisenhower could be convinced into changing his mind on a matter. He had seen Churchill do it. Eisenhower was not the stalwart leader that everyone believed. He could be cautiously manipulated.
Drinks were served and the two leaders conversed politely, enjoying their scotch and smoking cigarettes, until Eden decided it was time to get down to the business at hand. “I know it’s been a long day, but I feel it is most urgent that we put a stop to Nasser’s rhetoric against the Western allies,” he said.
“I don’t believe his issue is with the West as much as it is against the colonial powers, namely Britain and France,” said Eisenhower bluntly. Eden and Eisenhower knew each other well and neither felt obliged to shield their feelings on any matter.
“Perhaps,” said Eden. “But the result will be the same if he continues to push the Middle East towards the Soviets.”
“What makes you believe he’s moving toward the Soviets?”
“One of our MI6 operatives has discovered that Egypt plans to purchase a large quantity of Soviet built weapons from Czechoslovakia.”
Eisenhower’s expression sharpened on hearing the news. “How reliable is your source?” he said after taking a moment to consider.
“Quite,” said Eden.
“That is disconcerting.”
/> “I am glad you share our concern.”
“What do you have in mind?”
“Perhaps it is time for NATO to play a bigger role in the protection of the Suez. God knows what will happen if it falls under Soviet control.”
“I think we’re getting ahead of ourselves. Besides NATO has its hands full right now. Still, I think it’s important that Nasser be sent a message. He must choose between the Soviets and the West.”
“I agree,” said Eden pretending to analyze the options. “What about the funding of his Aswan Dam project?”
“We have already agreed to fund it. America does not welch on its financial commitments.”
“The same goes with Britain. But the Egyptian economy is slackening because of Nasser’s social programs. Both our countries could slow funding of the dam until the Egyptian economy recovers. I believe it is within our rights under the existing agreement.”
“That would piss Nasser off.”
“And send him a message.”
Eisenhower considered the idea carefully, then said, “Alright. Let me talk to my treasury secretary and see what we can do. I’ll get back to you shortly.”
July 19, 1956 - Cairo, Egypt
Nasser was furious as he marched through the halls of his presidential palace, trailed by his entourage of ministers. “This is an outrage. They committed the funds and now they pull them back like a cheap magician,” he said.
Nasser suddenly stopped as if a thought had occurred to him. “Get me the plans for the nationalization of the canal.”
“Such an action would surely destroy any hope of foreign investment in Egypt,” said his finance minister.
“Perhaps, but if we have the toll revenue from the canal we won’t need foreign investment. We can fund the building of the dam ourselves. It may be a worthwhile tradeoff,” said Nasser. “We should consider all options for the sake of the people. We need that dam.”
The Aswan Dam would be the largest dam in the world. It would provide badly needed power to Egypt and irrigate hundreds of thousands of acres of farm land. It was Nasser’s biggest promise to his people, and he planned on seeing it come to fruition no matter the cost.
July 20, 1956 – Algiers, Algeria
Faris Guerouabi was a longshoreman at the Port of Algiers. He operated a forklift. He was also an informant for the FLN. He would identify weapons shipments as they were unloaded from the ships and transferred to trucks for delivery to French army bases. When he spotted a load that looked interesting, he would go to the dispatch office and look up the destination on the schedules that hung on the wall. He would place a call on the public pay phone to his FLN handler and tell him which route the arms were most likely to take, and when.
The French counter-intelligence unit knew that Guerouabi was an FLN informant. They had turned him when he was caught smuggling opium without the proper tax stamp, earlier in the year. He did not hold up well under torture and gave up every contact he had with the FLN within the first hour. He also agreed to inform for the French when required. Today was one of those days.
Two French soldiers kept watch as an arms shipment was loaded onto six army trucks. One of the longshoremen loading a crate accidently dropped one end. It crashed down on the asphalt and the wooden box split open. Several rifles tumbled out in clear sight of anyone that might be looking. The soldiers cursed him for an idiot and told him to load the rifles back into the broken crate. He did so. The longshoremen finished up and closed the back of the trucks.
It was all a very clumsy show that had been preplanned for over a week. French counter-intelligence wanted to ensure that Guerouabi’s cover was not blown. If everybody saw the weapons in the shipment nobody could be pinpointed as a snitch. Guerouabi thought it was a stupid idea, but he was not in any position to bargain, so he went along with it. He called in the weapons shipment just as he always did and hoped his friends in the FLN did not take the bait.
It was early afternoon when the truck convoy left the port. The column of vehicles was led by a jeep carrying the officer, a French lieutenant, in charge of the convoy. At the rear of the column was a Panard armored car holding a crew of four and armed with a 75-mm cannon and three 7.5-mm machineguns. The lieutenant was informed by his commander that there was a high probability of ambush, but he was instructed not to inform his men of the intelligence. The lieutenant was noticeably jumpy. The men in his unit suspected he’d had too much Turkish coffee of which the lieutenant was fond.
It took several hours to travel through Algiers because of the heavy traffic. In some parts of the city the roads were not good and there were often bottlenecks usually caused by a stubborn donkey, a herd of goats or a jackknifed bus. This was normal, and the soldiers used the extra time to smoke cigarettes and share pictures of girlfriends or wives from home. Nobody was overly concerned about security. There was little chance of the convoy being attacked while it was in the city. The fighting would need to be close quarters and the rebels were not fond of confronting the well-armed French at close range.
When the convoy finally reached the outskirts of Algiers it was late afternoon and the sun hung low in the sky. The convoy was heading west which meant the sun was in their eyes, not an ideal situation for spotting a potential ambush. The lieutenant was concerned about driving through the hills after dark. His temper was short, and he pushed his Algerian drivers to go faster.
He had orders to radio in his position every fifteen minutes once he left the city. He didn’t understand why his commander did not give him more of an escort if he knew the odds of an ambush were high. He was told that if his convoy was attacked, he and his men were to hang on until help arrived. That was foolish, he thought. It could take hours for reinforcements from Algiers to reach him and his men. He wished he was inside the armored car at the rear of the column and not riding point in an open jeep.
As the convoy drove up a slope, the rebels attacked. The first shot hit his driver between the eyes, killing him instantly. The lieutenant grabbed the steering wheel and kept the jeep on the road. He couldn’t reach the gas pedal or the brake with the dead driver still in the seat so he pushed him out of the jeep. His corpse tumbled off the road into a ditch. The lieutenant had no time to feel remorse for the soldier. He was fighting to stay alive. As more bullets shattered the windshield, he slid behind the wheel and floored the gas pedal. The jeep lunged forward but the speed did not increase much. It was going uphill and had a small engine. He barked out commands to his radio operator riding in the back, “Send our position and tell them we are under attack.”
Several bullets hit the jeep’s radiator. Steam poured out from under the hood. It would be just a matter of a minute or two before the engine seized. Then we’ll really be in a world of shit, thought the lieutenant. If we stop moving we’re dead men. “Get that damn armored car to the front,” he said to the radio operator.
The armored car was having its own problems and was in no condition to help. An RPG, fired by a rebel hiding behind a boulder, had taken out one of its back wheels. To the driver’s amazement, the vehicle still had power and could maneuver. The three machineguns rattled off rounds as they searched for targets. Tracer rounds illuminated the fading light. Another RPG hit the flank of the armored car and it toppled over on its side. The crew scrambled for the hatches to get out. They knew what was coming. A third round hit the belly of the vehicle and the gas tank exploded, killing everyone still inside. The flaming wreckage of the armored car blocked the back of the convoy, making a rearward escape impossible.
“I think the armored car just took a hit,” said the radio operator looking to the back of the column. “Yeah, it’s gone.”
“Ah, fuck,” said the lieutenant.
The engine on the jeep seized and the vehicle decelerated quickly to a stop. “Damn it all to hell,” said the lieutenant. “Any word from H.Q.?”
“They say they’re sending help,” said the radio operator.
“Any indication as to how long?”
<
br /> “They didn’t say.”
“Would you consider asking them or do you need my foot up your ass?”
“I’ll ask.”
The lieutenant gave a hand signal to the drivers of the convoy to stop and dismount. They were fucked if they stopped and the lieutenant knew it, but he had little choice. If the rebels had RPGs they could pick off each truck at their leisure. Each truck had a French soldier riding shotgun. The Algerian drivers were also given rifles, but the lieutenant had little faith that they would be anything more than cannon fodder. Still, the more guns the better in a situation like this, he thought.
The truck crews dismounted and sought cover under the vehicles. The lieutenant saw what they were doing and immediately knew it was a bad idea. An RPG would not only take out the truck but the defenders beneath it. He shouted to his men to get out from underneath the trucks and to find cover elsewhere. Some did. Some didn’t.
The mujahideen rebels that they faced were well-trained fighters and the lieutenant wished he could switch sides. It was all too easy for them. Now that the convoy was immobilized, they could take their time. All they needed to do was to keep the French soldiers and the Algerian drivers pinned down. The rebels had no intention of destroying the trucks. They could consolidate their forces on a portion of the convoy and pick off the riflemen opposing them one by one. They would roll up the line and kill everyone in less than an hour. The convoy and its precious cargo would be theirs for the taking after that.
The lieutenant had all but lost hope when he heard the heavy thump-thump-thump of helicopters approaching. He looked up. At first, he couldn’t see anything, but the sound grew louder.
The first French helicopter gunship, a Sikorsky, appeared from over a hilltop. It was followed by three more. They were part of Bruno’s strike force. They had been following the convoy at a distance like an airmobile mousetrap waiting to spring. The Sikorsky gunships did a flyover to assess the situation.
Sèvres Protocol Page 3
