began to talk about whether it would work. Sadat made no contribution to the discussion. Let them talk, he thought: it’s what they really like to do. When it came to action they usually let him down.
As they argued, Sadat recalled the failed revolution of the previous summer. It had started with the sheik of al-Azhar, who had preached: “We have nothing to do with the war.” Then the Egyptian Parliament, in a rare display of independence, had adopted the policy : “Save Egypt from the scourge of war.” Until then the Egyptian Army had been fighting side by side with the. British Army in the desert, but now the British ordered the Egyptians to lay down their arms and withdraw. The Egyptians were happy to withdraw but did not want to be disarmed. Sadat saw a heaven-sent opportunity to foment strife. He and many other young officers refused to hand in their guns and planned to march on Cairo. To Sadat’s great disappointment, the British immediately yielded and let them keep their weapons. Sadat continued to try to fan the spark of rebellion into the flame of revolution, but the British had outmaneuvered him by giving way. The march on Cairo was a fiasco: Sadat’s unit arrived at the assembly point but nobody else came. They washed their vehicles, sat down, waited awhile, then went on to their camp.
Six months later Sadat had suffered another failure. This time it centered on Egypt’s fat, licentious, Turkish King. The British gave an ultimatum to King Farouk: either he was to instruct his Premier to form a new, pro-British government, or he was to abdicate. Under pressure the King summoned Mustafa el-Nahas Pasha and ordered him to form a new government. Sadat was no royalist, but he was an opportunist: he announced that this was a violation of Egyptian sovereignty, and the young officers marched to the palace to salute the King in protest. Once again Sadat tried to push the rebellion further. His plan was to surround the palace in token defense of the King. Once again, he was the only one who turned up.
He had been bitterly disappointed on both occasions. He had felt like abandoning the whole rebel cause: let the Egyptians go to hell their own way, he had thought in the moments of blackest despair. Yet those moments passed, for he knew the cause was right and he knew he was smart enough to serve it well.
“But we haven’t any means of contacting the Germans.” It was Imam speaking, one of the pilots. Sadat was pleased that they were already discussing how to do it rather than whether to.
Kemel had the answer to the question. “We might send the message by plane.”
“Yes!” Imam was young and fiery. “One of us could go up on a routine patrol and then divert from the course and land behind German lines.”
One of the older pilots said: “On his return he would have to account for his diversion—”
“He could not come back at all,” Imam said, his expression turning forlorn as swiftly as it had become animated.
Sadat said quietly: “He could come back with Rommel.”
Imam’s eyes lit up again, and Sadat knew that the young pilot was seeing himself and Rommel marching into Cairo at the head of an army of liberation. Sadat decided that Imam should be the one to take the message.
“Let us agree on the text of the message,” Sadat said democratically. Nobody noticed that such a clear decision had not been required on the question of whether a message should be sent at all. “I think we should make four points. One: We are honest Egyptians who have an organization within the Army. Two: Like you, we are fighting the British. Three: We are able to recruit a rebel army to fight on your side. Four: We will organize an uprising against the British in Cairo, if you will in return guarantee the independence and sovereignty of Egypt after the defeat of the British.” He paused. With a frown, he added: “I think perhaps we should offer them some token of our good faith.”
There was a silence. Kemel had
As they argued, Sadat recalled the failed revolution of the previous summer. It had started with the sheik of al-Azhar, who had preached: “We have nothing to do with the war.” Then the Egyptian Parliament, in a rare display of independence, had adopted the policy : “Save Egypt from the scourge of war.” Until then the Egyptian Army had been fighting side by side with the. British Army in the desert, but now the British ordered the Egyptians to lay down their arms and withdraw. The Egyptians were happy to withdraw but did not want to be disarmed. Sadat saw a heaven-sent opportunity to foment strife. He and many other young officers refused to hand in their guns and planned to march on Cairo. To Sadat’s great disappointment, the British immediately yielded and let them keep their weapons. Sadat continued to try to fan the spark of rebellion into the flame of revolution, but the British had outmaneuvered him by giving way. The march on Cairo was a fiasco: Sadat’s unit arrived at the assembly point but nobody else came. They washed their vehicles, sat down, waited awhile, then went on to their camp.
Six months later Sadat had suffered another failure. This time it centered on Egypt’s fat, licentious, Turkish King. The British gave an ultimatum to King Farouk: either he was to instruct his Premier to form a new, pro-British government, or he was to abdicate. Under pressure the King summoned Mustafa el-Nahas Pasha and ordered him to form a new government. Sadat was no royalist, but he was an opportunist: he announced that this was a violation of Egyptian sovereignty, and the young officers marched to the palace to salute the King in protest. Once again Sadat tried to push the rebellion further. His plan was to surround the palace in token defense of the King. Once again, he was the only one who turned up.
He had been bitterly disappointed on both occasions. He had felt like abandoning the whole rebel cause: let the Egyptians go to hell their own way, he had thought in the moments of blackest despair. Yet those moments passed, for he knew the cause was right and he knew he was smart enough to serve it well.
“But we haven’t any means of contacting the Germans.” It was Imam speaking, one of the pilots. Sadat was pleased that they were already discussing how to do it rather than whether to.
Kemel had the answer to the question. “We might send the message by plane.”
“Yes!” Imam was young and fiery. “One of us could go up on a routine patrol and then divert from the course and land behind German lines.”
One of the older pilots said: “On his return he would have to account for his diversion—”
“He could not come back at all,” Imam said, his expression turning forlorn as swiftly as it had become animated.
Sadat said quietly: “He could come back with Rommel.”
Imam’s eyes lit up again, and Sadat knew that the young pilot was seeing himself and Rommel marching into Cairo at the head of an army of liberation. Sadat decided that Imam should be the one to take the message.
“Let us agree on the text of the message,” Sadat said democratically. Nobody noticed that such a clear decision had not been required on the question of whether a message should be sent at all. “I think we should make four points. One: We are honest Egyptians who have an organization within the Army. Two: Like you, we are fighting the British. Three: We are able to recruit a rebel army to fight on your side. Four: We will organize an uprising against the British in Cairo, if you will in return guarantee the independence and sovereignty of Egypt after the defeat of the British.” He paused. With a frown, he added: “I think perhaps we should offer them some token of our good faith.”
There was a silence. Kemel had
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