SAM batteries establishing control over the crucial strip six miles to the east of the Canal .

EPISODE TWELVE

 ESTABLISHING NEW RULES FOR EXPERIMENTING WITH WEAPONS

Men need faith in those they go into battle with. That was the foundation of our new mobilization system. They also need faith in their equipment. I regard it as axiomatic that before any new weapon, idea or concept is introduced into a fighting force, those whose lives may depend on it must be shown how it works. Otherwise they will not trust it, which means they will misuse it. I laid down that the introduction of any weapon, idea or concept had to proceed in two phases. The first would be a full-scale experiment to test feasibility under battle conditions. I would attend, with our technical advisers. Several experiments might be needed to adapt the project to our needs. The next phase would be a series of demonstrations, again under battlefield conditions, for the benefit of all those involved in the new concept or device. I would also attend those. It meant our pace was deliberate. But the gain in understanding and confidence amply justified it. 

Our innovations did not consist primarily of new weapons. We perhaps deployed portable anti-tank and anti-aircraft Missiles in greater profusion than the enemy had expected, but the weapons were well known. Our major innovations lay in training, technique and determination. I was nevertheless constantly looking for any device that might help us. Two examples come to mind. 

In May 1973, the Syrian Chief of Staff, General Mustafa Talas, told me that one of his engineers had a design for a bridge that instead of just crossing the canal, would at the same time slope up to the top of the sand barriers-a sort of floating fly over. The engineer arrived in my office on May 30 for a meeting with myself, General Gamal `Aliy, head of our engineers, and a director of the Timsah engineering company which then built the prototype. We got as far as experiments with it. But the disadvantages were insuperable. We abandoned work and let the engineer return to Syria on September 23, just three weeks before our offensive. 

A more sophisticated device which only time prevented my using was a sensor which could detect concealed or underground objects from a high-altitude aircraft through minute changes in temperature. A prospecting device used by oil and mining companies, it operates on the principle that objects absorb and dissipate heat at different rates. Thus, an underground water or oil pipeline has a different heat profile than the earth it runs through, a tank in a hangar has a heat profile different from the hangar's, and so on. An Egyptian academic working at a Midwestern University in the United States drew my attention to the sensor in a letter out of the blue in May 1973. After a passing tussle with our Defense Intelligence Department, who apparently suspected my informant of working for the CIA, I brought him to arrange a demonstration over a patch of desert carefully bare of any of our secrets. The device was marvelously sensitive, detecting from great heights temperature differences as low as 0.2 degrees. But by now it was August 1973 and I had no more time. 

One weapon I did try to acquire was the hovercraft. It was on June 21, 1972 that, by invitation, I received a representative of the company. The types he could offer were undeniably impressive. One, I recall, could carry 17 tons at a speed of 60 knots. But, having been designed mainly for civilian use, none could do what I wanted. I stated my needs: "Could you provide one to transport 78 to 50 tons at 30 knots? I want speed, but the load is more important. I want a flying tank transporter." He replied: "Technically, I think we can do it. We'll study your requirement and let you know as soon as possible." He came back that September, with plans and a model. The company's design and performance specifications were all I had asked. But I needed five and, despite my strongest arguments, it was ruled that their price was beyond our reach. The project was shelved. 

I wanted them, of course, to transport a small force of medium tanks over Timsah Lake and the Bitter Lakes to reinforce our much lighter amphibious force. I mention the project only because I am convinced that the hovercraft is destined to play an important role as a tank transporter in future conflicts.
 

The non-appearance of Egypt's much-heralded secret weapon, al-Qahir missile, is a sordid tale, I regret to say. Al-Qahir had been part of Egyptian folklore since word first leaked in the early 1960's that Egypt had its own short-range ballistic missile made in Egypt with the help of foreign technicians. Its range was said to be just over 100 miles. The authorities seemed pleased by the leak; al-Qahir missiles, trundling past on their long trucks became an integral part of every military parade long before 1967. When we lost in 1967, of course, the questions started: "Where was al-Qahir?'' No answers came. 

Even as a general in the armed forces, I knew nothing about the weapon. But as Chief of Staff it became my responsibility to know. The responses to my initial inquiries so appalled me that I decided to uncover thefull story. I do not propose, here, to go into the shameful details-the wasted millions, the secret suspension of work, the deception thereafter by authorities afraid to admit the truth-though the Egyptian people must one day be told. I deal only with what confronted me. The missile had been written off, its technicians dispersed. The handful that had been constructed were in storage. 

I ordered a test firing, which I attended on September 23, 1971. Al- Qahir turned out to be very primitive indeed. Its maximum range was less than fifty miles,  at two-and-a-half tons, it was too heavy to be moved round the battlefield. It was also too inaccurate. Its range and direction could be controlled only by the tilt and alignment of its launching ramp. Even then, successive firings on the same elevation and bearing produced craters 900 yards apart (which meant that it could never be fired against an enemy closer than half-a-mile from, in our own lines). The only merit of al-Qaahir was the size of those craters. In normal soil, they were 30 yards wide and more than 12 yards deep. Apart from the destructive power of its warhead, al-Qahir was medieval. 

Al-Qahir had a younger brother, al-Zafir, and that too was fired for me at the same demonstration. Smaller and lighter, it had an even shorter range; which meant that although it was marginally more accurate than al-Qahir it had still to be used with caution, particularly since our technical military college had developed a launcher to fire four at once. 

Still, anything was better than nothing. I decided to deploy both, under new names. As al-Zaytuwn, the smaller was moved to prepared positions over the three nights before D-Day. But deploying al-Qahir renamed al-Tiyn, presented problems. It was so large that, in theory, it should have had the range to reach Tel Aviv. If enemy reconnaissance aircraft spotted it, there really would be a full-scale alert. So we moved it up only on the night of October 5 / 6. 

The war performance of both was predictably disappointing. That should have been the end of it. But on October 23 it was announced in Egypt that minutes before the cease fire at 1900 hours the previous day, October 22, al-Qahir missiles had been launched at the enemy in the region of al-Qahir This was untrue. The three missiles we had fired were Soviet R-17Es, which the West knows as SCUDs. It depressed me that, even then, our politicians not merely could not admit the truth, but were still trying to bolster lies with other lies. 

As preparations mounted, one concern diminished. By mid-1973 it was clear that our air defenses, a potential headache when I took over as Chief of Staff could, as I had counted on, provide the essential air umbrella over our troops, not only during the crossing but as they entrenched some miles east of the canal. The event that first demonstrated this I ordered in September 1971. 

        When I took over as Chief of Staff, the 1970 truce was still in force, although the Israelis did not respect it. Their aircraft continued to violate our airspace as they thought fit. But it was noticeable that their sorties points of penetration, routes, altitudes, points of exit were carefully mapped to steer clear of the SAM batteries investing our strategic targets. In particular, the ten-mile strip west of the canal from which we would mount our assault was free of enemy interference.
 

It was not free from reconnaissance, however. At intervals, the enemy would fly a Stratocruiser equipped with electronic detection gear down the length of the canal-but a careful two miles to the east, just out of range of our SAMs. I determined to stop this. In early September 1971, I gave General Muhammad `Aliy Fahmiy, Air Defense Commander, permission to prepare an ambush. At 15.11 hours on September 17, the reconnaissance aircraft fell in fragments less than two miles south of the Bitter Lakes. The enemy response came, predictably, the next day. It reassured us. We had guessed that they would try to knock out our SAM radars, which were set back some ten miles west of the canal by using SHRIKE air-toground missiles Israel obtained from the United States. We had devised electronic means of countering SHRIKE and were quite keen to test them. On September 18 Israel did as we had expected. The aircraft launched their missiles from six miles east of the canal. SHRIKE only has a range of ten miles. The missiles fell hopelessly short. Clearly, we were beginning to establish a cordon sanitaire east of the Canal too. 

We pursued the tactic. We could not permanently station any SAMs. so close to the canal as to be within enemy artillery range. But by a series of "hit and run" ambushes from SAMs. set up overnight only five kilometers west of the canal-and swiftly withdrawn after firing-we gradually prohibited the enemy from flying over a strip of 10-15 kilometers east of the Canal. 

The weak link remained our air force, as an encounter nine months later confirmed. On June 13, 1972, two enemy Phantoms penetrated our air space in the area of Ra's-al-`ishsh (where there were no SAMs. Two of our MIG-21s took off from Mansuwrah air base and pursued the Phantoms out to sea, only to be ambushed by eight others. (I was informed afterwards that by the time the duty controller had spotted the impending ambush on his radar, it was too late to warn our pilots.) Six other MIGs were scrambled, but when they arrived the skies were empty. 

I decided to stop that sort of fracas. I issued new instructions to the air force. When approaching enemy aircraft were detected, I ordered our interceptors were to be scrambled, but only to patrol designated areas. Chases outside those areas were not permitted, except as part of a tactical plan worked out beforehand. No air-to-air combat was to be accepted at unfavorable odds. When the enemy tried to repeat the same tactics in a penetration of our Red Sea district two days later on June 15, I was relieved to see that my orders were obeyed. 

I recall only two exceptions. On October 10, 1972, intruders approached the canal, this time in formation. Apparently the enemy was trying new electronic measures to jam our detection Radars during their approach, and to jam our SAM fire-control Radars while they launched their own air-to-ground missiles. Of the two missiles we launched, one hit. I felt sorry for the Israeli pilot, sacrificed for a technical exercise. The only other intrusion across the canal came eight months later. At 16.12 hours on June 28, 1973, we shot down another Israeli aircraft. Long before the October assault, in other words, our air-defense was well established over the crucial strip six miles to the east of the Canal.
 

We did need help after the Soviet departure, however, the Soviets had been flying about 30 percent of our MIG 21s, operating about 20 percent of our SAMs and much of the supporting electronic equipment; in particular, the SMALTA and TAKAN jamming devices. They operated an electronic reconnaissance and jamming squadron, and also had some electronic gear we knew nothing about. But by the end of 1972, within five months of the Soviet departure, our SAM battalions had absorbed virtually all the Soviet tasks. The old problem had returned to the air force, however: a shortage of MIG pilots.

The solution occurred to me in March 1973, during the visit to Egypt of the Vice President of the Democratic Republic of Korea. On March 6, while escorting their Vice Minister of War, General Zang Zong, on a tour of the Suez front, I asked if they could support us-and give their pilots useful combat training-by sending even a squadron of men. I knew at that time that his country flew MIG 21s, After much political discussion, in April I went on an official visit to President Kim-il-Sung to finalize the plan. (My fascinating ten-day tour of that extraordinary republic, an inspiring example of what a small nation of the so-called Third World can achieve with its own resources[1] is alas rather outside the scope of this memoir, as is my stopover in Peking.)

Korean pilots-all highly experienced, many with more than 2,000 hours-arrived in Egypt in June and were operating by July. Israel or her ally soon monitored their communications, of course., and on August 15 announced their presence. To my regret, our leadership would never confirm it. The Koreans were probably the smallest international military reinforcement in history: only 20 pilots, eight controllers, five interpreters, three administrative men, a political advisor, a doctor and a cook. But their effect was disproportionate. They had two or three encounters with the Israelis in August and September and about the same number in the war. Their arrival was a heartwarming gesture. I mention the story here mainly to pay tribute to them and to apologize for the churlishness of our leadership in not also doing so.

(To be continued)
 
 

NEXT: EPISODE TWELVE 
MOBILiZATION