" Watching people die
to defend you is not pleasant. It is easier to die oneself."
King
Faruwq
I went back along
the palace corridors. Wounded men were being brought in, sweating
and teeth bared with pain. It is a terrible sensation to see men
being killed and crippled to save your life. Matron Iris,
another English girl, who assisted at the birth of our son, and had since
been taking post-natal care of my wife, was kneeling among the wounded,
fixing bandages imperturbably. She was one of the bravest.
I wonder what Matron
Iris
thinks of her country's newspapers that blandly reprinted the Naguibpropaganda
about Ra's al-Tiyn Palace being surrendered "with hardly
a shot fired", when she risked her life for nearly two hours that morning?
And I wonder if you can understand how I feel, who saw men die for me and
my family in what they knew to be an apparently lost cause with no hope
of medals or promotion at the end of it? Watching people die to defend
you is not pleasant. It is easier to die oneself. And then
to hear their sacrifice lied about by politicians, is very hard to bear.
Narriyman
was with our son, smiling at him and imitating with her lips the "boom-boom-boom
… " of the gunfire, and the bee-like "see-ee-ee" of the ricochets
that whiplashed around the walls. Little Fuw'ad,
too young to understand, he lay and watched her with wide, serious eyes,
half-comforted.
My Chief ADC at the
time was a Sudanese, Naguwmiy Pasha.
To gain time for us, he walked out into the palace yard and called upon
the revolutionaries to cease fire and send delegates to discuss what it
was all about.
They promptly captured
him and went on firing.
A young lieutenant
of my Palace Guard put a white handkerchief onto his bayonet, and went
out after Naguwmiy Pasha..
This time, there was a lull, and he got through to some officers on the
other side.
It was during this
lull that my Prime Minister arrived, very white and shaken. They
let him through, and he was astounded at the scene in the palace.
`Aliy
Mahir was a good, loyal man and was never, as some British
wanted to make out, a fifth columnist during the war. He was just
an anti-Communist, like me.
The Navy had signaled
from the harbor, requesting permission to shoot it out with the harbor
fortress, whose guns were trained down on them. I forbade such a
costly and unavailing suicide, for they would not have stood a chance and
they knew it.
Meanwhile,US
Ambassador Caffery had sent his own
naval attaché to Naguib at Mustafa
Pasha Barracks, with an injunction that the United States wanted an
immediate assurance that the lives of the Royal Family and of the King
were not in personal danger.
And just as the firing
began to break out again, his private secretary, Mr.
Simpson, a very tall, fine young man, came recklessly through
the besiegers in his car flying the United States flag, and with orders
to stay with me until Mr. Caffery received
assurance that our lives were not in danger.
I have in my own mind
no doubt that the United States saved the lives of my family and myself,
that day.
`Aliy Mahir
went out to talk to the revolutionaries, and came back with a long face,
his hands trembling. In my heart, I knew what news he was bringing.
He wiped his hands, upon his handkerchief,
and at first all he could say was, "It is a terrible thing they want--it
is terrible ...
(Story continues
next month) |
