January 27: The next stage in my effort to mobilize the Arabs’ own resources. The Arab Collective Defense

"I do not agree to it," he said. "It is a waste of time. The only useful trips would be to Libya and Saudi Arabia. The others would use your visit for propaganda but contribute nothing to the battle."

I reminded him I would be traveling as Assistant Secretary General of the Arab Defense League, not as Egyptian Chief of Staff.

"Even so," he said, "there is no disguising the fact that you are Chief of Staff."

"Mr. President," I replied, "I know Egypt has poor relations with Algeria, Iraq and Morocco. Even so, if we succeed in getting anything from them towards the battle, we have got something. If not, we have lost nothing."

"Mr. President," I said as calmly as I could, "no doubt your own bad experience has made you abandon hope of cooperation. But I remind you of the saying of the Prophet [sA`ws]:

"I have never heard that saying," the President said after a pause. "It sounds like a wise one. Repeat it."

I did. Suddenly he laughed. "God bless you, get on with your tour."

February 2: President Sadat flew to Moscow.

February 6: I flew to Algiers, first stop on my Arab Collective Defense Council trip. After Algeria, Morocco then Libya on the way home.
 

February 7: My first meeting with President Hawariy Boumedienne. One of the first attempts by any senior Egyptian official, in fact, to heal the rift that had opened between our countries in the recriminations after 1967. Yet when I had explained my mission, the President's instant enthusiasm was tempered only by his doubt, which he did not hide, whether we had any real intention of going to war. "But you may rest assured," he said, "that when war does break out, we will send every soldier we can to fight beside our Egyptian brothers."

Our offensive plan must be geared to the troops at hand, not to those who might or might not join later. Nor could we incorporate them into our plan unless they were completely under our command." Boumedienne said he saw the logic of that. But what if Algerian troops were stationed in Egypt waiting indefinitely for a war that might never come? "We Algerians  are hot-blooded," he said. "We are not good at waiting. When our men leave for Egypt, morale and spirit will be at fever pitch. If they have to hang around, they will make trouble. Besides, they will want their families sent after them, or they will always be wanting leave to see their relatives here. All problems we would avoid if we sent them after a date is fixed for the war."

A persistent undercurrent to our discussion was Boumedienne's bitterness towards our leadership. Sadat was never mentioned; it was "you in Egypt." "You in Egypt continue to attack me," he said, "always claiming that I seek the leadership of the Arab world after the death of President Nasir. That is not true. I want to make it clear to you in Egypt that I have never even thought of it. All I want is that we join hands in a genuine endeavor to push the Israelis out of our occupied lands. It is humiliating to see that tiny, aggressive, expansionist state occupying our lands while we Arab states seem unable to summon the will to repel her."

I spent two days inspecting Algerian army and air force units. I was impressed. Algeria at independence had nothing. Zero. It was more French than Arab. In the decade since, the "Arabization" of Algeria had achieved more in the building of the armed forces, as in society as a whole, than I would have thought possible.

I also learned what sort of petty problem had been left to fester between us. When Algeria had withdrawn its brigade from Egypt in 1969, only the men and their light equipment had gone, I was told. Their heavy equipment stayed in Egypt. All the Algerians wanted was a receipt for it, so they could close their books. I said I knew nothing about it, but would settle it; and on my return to Cairo, I did. In appreciation, Algeria offered us, in December 1972, 24 pieces of medium artillery.
 

February 9: To Morocco to meet King Hasan. The ceremonial left me dazzled in spite of myself. I suppose I had envisaged a chief executive as any other, standing at his desk to greet me perhaps, with advisers ready in the room. The usual scene. Instead, I drove to the palace with his Minister of War, General Muhammad Uwufaqiyr, to find a guard of honor gleaming in traditional dress. We processed through cohorts of subordinates, passing at last into the hands of a chamberlain, no less, with a long staff which he hammered on the marble floor of the King's office to announce me. I concluded that Hasan was in the business of combining oriental splendor with Western trimmings. (And the few days I spent in that remarkable country-very oriental-yet at the same time the most infused with Western influence-confirmed my view.)

"The Moroccan Armed Forces are at your disposal," the King said when I had explained my plan. "Every person in the country will rejoice to see our forces fight for the Arab cause."

"Your majesty," I said as tactfully as I could, "I have come with an outline knowledge of your forces. But I do not know, for instance, if your ways of training are the same as ours. I would be grateful for the chance to visit units to see which are most suitable for the tasks we face."

When it came to politics Hasan, like Boumedienne, had complaints. Hasan's were against President Qadhdhafiy of Libya: "His radio spends more than an hour a day reviling and attacking us. Why? What does he want of us? What have we done to him? Is it more sensible to expend our energies attacking each other or to direct them against our common foe?"

 After two hectic days with his army and air force, I returned to the King, suggesting that the reinforcements he could provide were those I had initially envisaged: among them a squadron of F-5s and an independent armored brigade. Hasan approved. We discussed their weak points, how to remedy them, how to get them to the front and what supplies and ammunition they would need. As I rose to go, King Hasan was enthusiastic.

"Brother Shazliy," he said, "someday you may write your memoirs. In them, I tell you, you will write: 'King Hasan kept his promise.' "

I smiled. "Your Majesty, I hope I shall."

I had met Qadhdhafiy several times in Cairo, but this was my first close conversation with him. In truth, I was there to ask for arms. I was there to relay the results of Algeria and Morocco and to visit Egyptian units and personnel in Libya. Qadhdhafiy own forces were so small that they had nothing of value to us except Mirage III fighter-bombers, and we already had those.

Ever since Qadhdhafiy had come to power in September 1969, he had made Herculean efforts to build modern and powerful armed forces. His ambition exceeded his country's capacity. Libya had the money but not the personnel or technological base. So he was relying heavily on Egypt. Thousands of Libyan students were at our military schools and colleges. Egypt was handsomely 

recompensed. Qadhdhafiy had acquired the Mirage III from France in such numbers that Libya could not absorb them. So he had proposed that Egyptians on Libyan passports go to France for training and then base themselves in Libya. One squadron would be wholly manned by Egyptians, ready to fly to Egypt when they were needed. Apart perhaps from some artillery and some armored personnel carriers there was little further Libya could offer us, certainly no major units.

When I told Qadhdhafiy of my previous meetings, he responded simply that he did not believe Hasan would send troops. I said I thought he would.

"What makes you so sure?" Qadhdhafiy asked.

"I have been dealing with men for more than 30 years," I said. "I think I can fathom who means what he says and who does not."

Qadhdhafiy looked around at his colleagues. "In that case, Hasan must have felt danger from his own men and decided to get them out of the country," he said. I thought it improper to get dragged into that sort of talk, so I broke in: "Mr. President, suppose that is correct.

Does it make any difference to you or to us? So long as we get those troops for the battle."

Qadhdhafiy nodded: "You are right. It would make no difference." He cheered up after that. "Brothers," he  said as the meeting ended, "it seems that the Arabization of the battle we were calling for is going to happen after all."

"You have been deceived," he said. "Your statements during the tour have absolved them of any charges or blame, and in return you have got nothing."

I reminded him of the solemn promises of Boumedienne and Hasan, but he mocked: "King Hasan has said just the same even in front of Arab summit meetings and never honored it. As for Boumedienne, how can we let him know three months in advance that we propose to attack? The condition is unacceptable."

He forbade me to carry on to Jordan. King Husayn was as bad as the rest: disloyal to the Arab cause; sold himself to the Americans; no hope of realigning him. "It is a waste of time to deal with the man at any level. I do not agree to your accepting the Invitation," he said. I consoled myself with the thought that at least my visits might have helped to break the ice between Egypt, Algeria and Morocco. Sadat must have agreed. Less than three months later, he flew on an official visit to the two countries.
 

(Next issue: A Question of Payment)