bear had been firing as hard and as fast as the barrels could stand.
Shells were landing all along the perimeter of the fortress's outer defenses while other guns were pouring more and more shells into every corner of the inner perimeter. The Israeli Air Force had spent the last two hours of daylight plastering the entire area.
The attacking bombers and strafing fighters had the sky to themselves as there was not an Egyptian plane left in condition to fly.
Wave after wave of Vautour bombers pounded the fortifications. The Arab antiaircraft gunners tried valiantly to make up for their lack of air defense, but only succeeded in exposing themselves as targets for the escorting fighter planes. By the time Colonel Weintraub's helicopters arrived there was scarcely a gun crew left that could fire into the air.
The timing was meticulous. The incessant bombardment cloaked the arrival of the airborne force and ceased only half a minute before the first choppers set down and troops leaped from them.
The dazed, bewildered, and thoroughly scared defenders barely registered that the helicopters were coming. Their attention was entirely devoted to the desperate effort of trying to answer the encircling artillery barrage.
Casca deployed his men in a protective circle around his heavy weapons squad and succeeded in keeping at bay the few Egyptian troops who attempted to attack them.
Then the mortars and the Brownings opened up and the startled defenders discovered that their front was behind them. After hours of heartbreaking, suicidal effort to organize their fire onto the attackers out in the desert, they now had to try to regroup to fight into the center of their own area.
And they had barely managed to start thinking about that when General Sharon's armor and infantry came swarming at them from all over the desert.
The battle was over almost as soon as it had begun. Sandwiched in the dark between the paratroopers and the encircling force ,. the Egyptians scarcely knew which way to turn. When they fired, they frequently hit their own troops. When they thought about running, they ran into some sort of fire, no matter which way they ran.
It was a situation that would easily enough bring brave men to tears and most of these defenders were mere schoolboys. Last night they had dreamed of glory, medals, admiring women, envious men. Tonight this nightmare was real beyond all dreaming.
Terrified, they broke out of their own defenses to run directly into Sharon's machine guns.
The carnage continued.
And ended only when the Israelis tired of the slaughter. Gradually, first in one section of the circle, then in others, Israeli soldiers stopped shooting. The despairing Arab survivors rushed out as the Israelis walked in, their guns held loose in their hands, or even slung over their shoulders.
Section after section quieted until there was only sporadic fire here and there.
And then silence, except for the panic stricken shouts of the thousands of Arabs who were running heedlessly into the dark, the screams of the wounded, and the hideous groans of the dying.
The battle was over.
"An unjoyous victory," Billy Glennon muttered as he recapped his canteen. "I haven't even raised a thirst."
"No," Moynihan said, grimacing, "me neither. But I'll bet ye these boyohs who are heading away could use a drop."
"Yeah," Glennon agreed. He well knew the truly unquenchable thirst that followed defeat in a firefight. "Dunno where they'll find any."
"Well," Moynihan said, "Screw ' em, they picked the wrong side."
"Born into it," Harry Russell said, "but we seem to be on the right side this time."
"I wish you hadn't said that."
"So do I. Damn my big mouth, so do I."
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Part of General Tal's task force racing west from Al 'Arish had already made it to the Suez Canal.
The helicopters returned to Abu Agheila and the Red colonel's regiment was ferried out but not back to rejoin General. Tal. They were delivered to Jerusalem,
Shells were landing all along the perimeter of the fortress's outer defenses while other guns were pouring more and more shells into every corner of the inner perimeter. The Israeli Air Force had spent the last two hours of daylight plastering the entire area.
The attacking bombers and strafing fighters had the sky to themselves as there was not an Egyptian plane left in condition to fly.
Wave after wave of Vautour bombers pounded the fortifications. The Arab antiaircraft gunners tried valiantly to make up for their lack of air defense, but only succeeded in exposing themselves as targets for the escorting fighter planes. By the time Colonel Weintraub's helicopters arrived there was scarcely a gun crew left that could fire into the air.
The timing was meticulous. The incessant bombardment cloaked the arrival of the airborne force and ceased only half a minute before the first choppers set down and troops leaped from them.
The dazed, bewildered, and thoroughly scared defenders barely registered that the helicopters were coming. Their attention was entirely devoted to the desperate effort of trying to answer the encircling artillery barrage.
Casca deployed his men in a protective circle around his heavy weapons squad and succeeded in keeping at bay the few Egyptian troops who attempted to attack them.
Then the mortars and the Brownings opened up and the startled defenders discovered that their front was behind them. After hours of heartbreaking, suicidal effort to organize their fire onto the attackers out in the desert, they now had to try to regroup to fight into the center of their own area.
And they had barely managed to start thinking about that when General Sharon's armor and infantry came swarming at them from all over the desert.
The battle was over almost as soon as it had begun. Sandwiched in the dark between the paratroopers and the encircling force ,. the Egyptians scarcely knew which way to turn. When they fired, they frequently hit their own troops. When they thought about running, they ran into some sort of fire, no matter which way they ran.
It was a situation that would easily enough bring brave men to tears and most of these defenders were mere schoolboys. Last night they had dreamed of glory, medals, admiring women, envious men. Tonight this nightmare was real beyond all dreaming.
Terrified, they broke out of their own defenses to run directly into Sharon's machine guns.
The carnage continued.
And ended only when the Israelis tired of the slaughter. Gradually, first in one section of the circle, then in others, Israeli soldiers stopped shooting. The despairing Arab survivors rushed out as the Israelis walked in, their guns held loose in their hands, or even slung over their shoulders.
Section after section quieted until there was only sporadic fire here and there.
And then silence, except for the panic stricken shouts of the thousands of Arabs who were running heedlessly into the dark, the screams of the wounded, and the hideous groans of the dying.
The battle was over.
"An unjoyous victory," Billy Glennon muttered as he recapped his canteen. "I haven't even raised a thirst."
"No," Moynihan said, grimacing, "me neither. But I'll bet ye these boyohs who are heading away could use a drop."
"Yeah," Glennon agreed. He well knew the truly unquenchable thirst that followed defeat in a firefight. "Dunno where they'll find any."
"Well," Moynihan said, "Screw ' em, they picked the wrong side."
"Born into it," Harry Russell said, "but we seem to be on the right side this time."
"I wish you hadn't said that."
"So do I. Damn my big mouth, so do I."
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Part of General Tal's task force racing west from Al 'Arish had already made it to the Suez Canal.
The helicopters returned to Abu Agheila and the Red colonel's regiment was ferried out but not back to rejoin General. Tal. They were delivered to Jerusalem,
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