The Haj - Leon Uris [165]
It was also felt that Yigal Allon should have continued to command the most vital Central Front, which included Tel Aviv and also Jerusalem. Perhaps his star was too bright because Ben-Gurion ‘exiled’ him to command the Southern Front in the desert.
It was not that Allon represented a serious political rival but a new kind of Jew that B.G. was not totally familiar or comfortable with, despite his years in Palestine.
The airstrip was located by a weak radio signal that led them to ground panels. Gideon was whisked away as soon as the plane touched down at a tiny oasis within fieldglass sight of El Arish. Yigal Allon and Gideon greeted one another with bear hugs only slightly less forceful than clanging steel.
Allon was a portrait of frustration as he pointed out his army’s position to Gideon. El Arish sat at the foot of the Gaza Strip where it crossed into the Sinai Desert. Time had recorded a hundred battles around El Arish from those of Philistine chariots to British tanks. A railroad line, hugging the sea, ran to the Suez Canal and on to Cairo.
‘My Intelligence reports that a twenty-car train has arrived. The Egyptian officer corps is planning to flee tonight. I have broken up enough rail track so the train can’t pull out until at least tomorrow. But, Gideon, we probed El Arish. They have nothing left. I can take it with two battalions and seal off the entire Gaza Strip.’
Gideon was about to give his order to cease fire, but he did not.
‘I’ve been pleading for a meeting with the Old Man for two days to get permission to attack. All I’ve gotten is silence. Can I bag them now?’ Allon asked.
Gideon did not answer. Allon had the right to take his case to B.G., the Cabinet, the chief of staff and the chief of operations.
‘If you promise me you won’t attack, I’ll guarantee you a meeting with B.G. by morning,’ Gideon said.
‘Suppose cease-fire orders come?’
‘They didn’t come on my plane,’ Gideon lied. ‘Yigal, stay away from your headquarters for twelve hours. If you never personally received the order, you can’t carry it out. Right? Now, don’t be a shmuck. Do as I tell you. I’ll try to soften up the Old Man for you ...’
David Ben-Gurion was a small man in build. His outsized bald head was fringed with a horseshoe shock of snow-white hair, giving him the appearance of a cherub. He was at his petulant best when Gideon arrived several hours later. He had spent a feverish day trying to get the cease-fire implemented. It was all in place, except for the Egyptians, where there were still reports of fighting and a hot young commander, Yigal Allon, demanding his say. The sight of Gideon buoyed him for the moment.
‘You saw Allon?’ Gideon was greeted eagerly.
‘I saw him about two hours ago.’
‘Then he has the cease-fire order, thank God.’
‘I didn’t give it to him,’ Gideon said.
The Old Man’s face blanched, then disbelief settled in.
‘Yigal has been trying to reach you for two days. You have deliberately ignored him. He is your southern commander. He is entitled to speak to you and the Cabinet.’
‘Who the hell do you think you are, Gideon? Do you want to be the first Jew executed for insubordination? Do you have any idea how serious this has become?’
‘Yigal is entitled to speak to you,’ Gideon repeated.
‘For what! For permission to destroy the Egyptians? There are also a quarter of a million refugees packed in the Gaza Strip. We haven’t got bread to feed our soldiers. What are we supposed to do with theirs!’
Gideon lifted a pencil from the desk and snapped it in half. ‘We have the Egyptians right here—trapped, finished.’
‘I’ll see you shot! I’ll see Yigal shot!’
‘So shoot me. I resign!’ Gideon barked and started out of the office.
‘Come back, come back. Sit down,’ Ben-Gurion said, lowering his tone to a rare conciliatory but ominous rumble. ‘At what time did you leave Yigal?’
‘I flew out at three, just ahead of a sandstorm.’
‘So do you know who flew in with the sandstorm forty minutes later. No? Well, I’ll tell you. The British are demonstrating very