Mitla Pass (57 page)

All messages by voice in Hebrew.

OBJECTIVE: To secure and maintain defensive positions inside Mitla Pass to prevent an Egyptian breakout into Sinai proper.

Major Ben Asher in command.

SIGNED: Colonel Amos Zechariah, Commander Para 202.

Ben Asher marched briskly, at a half trot, into the command tent, ordering his officers to wait outside.

“Good morning, Ben Asher,” Colonel Zechariah said, “I’ve been expecting you. Have the units formed?”

“They are forming now, Colonel, but I think we’d better talk about this so-called patrol.”

“As I said, I was expecting you.”

“Last night you and I and Command Central agreed to send in a patrol to probe for better defensive positions. This is not a patrol you’ve ordered. This a full combat team. I think you have deceived us, and I believe you are planning to capture the Pass.”

Zechariah remained calm to belie his reputation. “Read this,” he said. “I was making up an order during the night, when this message arrived.” He handed the message to Ben Asher.

Command Central to all ground, air, and naval units STOP 0330 Hours URGENT URGENT URGENT Anglo-French Expeditionary Force has been forced to cease all operations due to pressures from Washington and Moscow STOP We will continue operations on all fronts until objectives have been reached SIGNED D. Ben-Gurion, Prime Minister SIGNED Dayan, Chief of Staff

“Jesus Christ,” Ben Asher mumbled. He read the communiqué again, dropped it on the map table, and stared at it.

“We’re all alone now,” Zechariah said. “Jordan may take a crack at entering the war. So might Syria.”

“Can our units reach their objectives before America and Russia force us into a cease-fire?”

Zechariah shrugged. “We have to move very fast. On the Northern Axis, the Seventh Armored has probably reached El Arish. They’ll get a fight there. They’ll have to go like hell to reach the Canal. Central Axis ... we’ve broken through at Jebel Livini and are probably now facing opposition at Kfar Gafafa. We are here at Mitla. Yoffe’s Ninth Brigade is just kicking off. They’ll reach Taba by tonight and then their fun begins. They’ve got close to a hundred and fifty miles of mountainous, untracked desert before they reach Sharm al-Sheikh. How do you say it ... there’s good news and bad news. Every column has to perform perfectly from here on out to avert a disaster.”

“How long have we got?”

“The way I figure it, if our two northern columns haven’t reached the Canal by tomorrow night and if we haven’t captured Sharm al-Sheikh by the fourth, we’re fucked.”

“Why don’t I take our combat team and head south now?” Ben Asher asked. “You can start with the rest of the brigade tomorrow morning and we can leapfrog down to Sharm.”

“With France and England out of it, the Egyptians may get bold and release their reserves. I don’t want to get pinned down here at the Pass.”

Ben Asher nodded that he understood. The two were in accord for the first time. “What do you want me to do, Zech?”

“Capture Mitla Pass.”

“We’re going to get our asses fried.”

“So, well get our asses fried. Dayan did the same kind of thing during the War of Independence. He broke orders so he could take Lydda. We still have the basic rule of war: that the commander in the field can make the ultimate decision. You being in agreement is all the support I need.”

“Let’s talk about this plan,” the major said. “I don’t like taking our armor, men, and vehicles right through the middle of the wadi bed. The Egyptians will be entrenched over the top of us, shooting down.”

“There is no easy way. We have no room for tactical finesse. As soon as we encounter fire, disperse for the best cover and keep the Egyptians pinned down. That will give the Recon unit the opportunity to climb the cliffs near the Egyptian positions and get above them at the Heitan Defile. It’s going to be a dirty day, Major, a very dirty day.”

Captain Kofsky entered. “The troops are formed, Zech,” he said.

“I’ll give them a little pep talk,” Colonel Z. said.

T
HE TAUNTING MYSTERY
of Mitla Pass was about to be answered. That silent conglomerate of massed pale red rock loomed large as the Lions moved forward into its ominous but alluring jaws.

As they entered the wadi bed and the Pass itself, Gideon and Shlomo lifted a fifty-caliber air-cooled machine gun onto a stationary pole attached to the command truck. The gun was set down on its swivel, and Gideon whistled lightly through his teeth as he swung it around in an arc to set up his field of fire. In a moment they were inside, beneath hundreds of feet of sheer cliffs filled with fissures and caves. Where was the enemy? They could be there, there, there, or there. Anywhere? Holy shit. A platoon of Marines could hold this pass forever.

Scared, Gideon whistled “Just Before the Battle, Mother” beneath his breath. It was like the landing at Tarawa ... jumping out into chest-high water with the Japs pouring fire at them.

Gideon signaled to Shlomo to feed a belt of ammunition to him. He cracked the bolt twice as Shlomo tidied it to feed it in straight, so it wouldn’t jam. They were ready.

“Forward to Ben Asher, do you read me?”

“Ben Asher to Forward, loud and clear.”

“Forward to Ben Asher, no sight of enemy.”

“Ben Asher to Forward, how far in are you?”

“Forward to Ben Asher, one mile.”

“Ben Asher to Forward, slow your movement. Look for cover if you are attacked. Ben Asher to all units, look around you for cover.”

The tanks crunched the rock, and the heavy trucks tossed their human cargo around, as the mass of rock in the wadi bed grew larger from slides. Up and down the canyon walls a discordant cantata of half-track engines roaring and barfing exhaust.

“Forward to Ben Asher, Heitan Defile dead ahead.”

“Ben Asher to Recon, hide your vehicles and commence climbing out of enemy sight. Work your way over the top of Defile.”

“Recon to Ben Asher, order received.”

“Ben Asher to Recon, can you estimate length of time needed to scale Defile?”

“Recon to Ben Asher, rough estimate, three or four hours.”

“Shit,” Ben Asher mumbled. “Okay, we’d better prepare for a messy day. Ben Asher to all units. Start seeking cover immediately outside of wadi bed. Dig in, cover Recon unit. Hit anything that moves. Keep enemy pinned.”

The instant the Recon unit began their climb, a smoke shell from the caves in the Defile arched out and down to the wadi bed, exploded, and signaled the Egyptians to open fire. In what seemed a single blast, Mitla Pass erupted with cannon, mortar, machine-gun, and small arms fire.

“Scatter!”

The paras leaped from their vehicles and hugged the canyon walls, seeking crevices and boulders for cover.

Whoooomph!
The fuel truck took a direct hit and sent a column of flames leaping two hundred feet up the canyon wall.

Gunfire came not only from the Defile, but from almost a full circle of positions in front, alongside, and behind the para column.

“God dammit!” Ben Asher roared. “They slipped back into other positions during the night! Driver! Pull into that draw over there.” It gave barely enough cover to hold the command car and the ambulance. They set up a first-aid station and message center. Ben Asher’s view was not far enough into the Pass. He looked about. A ledge above him showed more promise. He climbed to it with the radio man, the driver, and a half-dozen command post personnel. Yes, it was much better ... a good look down the wadi bed, clear to the Defile. Gideon and Shlomo hid the command car and carried the machine gun to the command post ledge and manned it.

The fire fight intensified as the paras first dug in, answered fire, then sent out squads to pick off the Egyptian nests, one by one, with bayonets and grenades.

A half-track in the wadi bed exploded and then ten thousand rocks shook loose as the ammunition truck blew to kingdom come ... then the ambulance went ... another half-track and another ...

“Ben Asher to Colonel Z., can you read me?”

“Z. to Asher, you’re coming in about three and three, very low. I can barely make you out, over.”

“Ben Asher to Z., we have lost our ambulance and ammo truck. We are completely surrounded. All troops well deployed, but we’re having to take positions one at a time.”

“Z. to Asher, ammo truck and ambulance on the way.”

“Asher to Z., you’re going to have to have the reserve company lead them in. We’re blocked. C Company has to open a hole and keep a lane, so we can move in and out around map coordinate A-12.”

“MiGs! Hit the dirt!”

Flying in a line, six MiGs came in from twelve o’clock high, strafing the middle of the wadi bed. More vehicles were torched.

“Medic! Medic!”

A dozen wounded were pulled, dragged, carried back to the aid station a few feet from Ben Asher’s ledge. Israeli tanks and mortars had established cover and were firing at the Egyptian positions, but the fire seemed ineffective. Runners and radios crackled with messages ...
Hallelujah,
two Egyptian machine guns had been reached and taken!

Ben Asher gained control of the battle, directing the movements of his units until the Egyptians spotted the command post and plastered it with mortar fire.

“We’ve got to get them out of there!” the major yelled. “Dammit, we’ve got to give better firing directions.”

Gideon spotted a fissure some twenty feet above them. It appeared to afford a better view down the wadi. He tapped the commander on the shoulder and pointed up.

“Good,” Ben Asher said and looked for people to run up a phone line. “Shit, where is everyone?”

“Comm truck was hit. We’re short of radio and telephone men—I’ll run it up,” Shlomo volunteered. Gideon grabbed the second handle on the phone reel. “You’ll never get up there with your leg,” Shlomo said.

“Want to bet!”

Ben Asher handed Gideon his binoculars, and Gideon and Shlomo struggled up with the wire moving hand over hand up a sheer wall to the fissure. He pulled Gideon in. Gideon scanned with the field glasses. “It’s a beauty! We can see everything! Hey! There’s Recon. They’re going up the cliffs like mountain goats!”

“Ben Asher,” Shlomo shouted down, “we can direct the tank and mortar fire from here! Send up a map!”

The map was hurled up tied to a rock as Gideon spliced on a field phone.

“Stay here with the phone,” Gideon said. “I’m going up a few more yards. I’ll call the numbers down to you.”

Shlomo looked at the place Gideon intended to crawl to. It was terribly exposed. “No, better let me go, you phone down.”

“I can’t speak Hebrew. You’ll have to man the phone,” Gideon said. “Don’t look so worried. I spotted for artillery on Tarawa.” And he was gone. Ten yards away and out on a ledge he lay on his belly and with his binoculars brought the battle into focus: Three tanks hidden behind large boulders; the infantry working their way toward machine-gun nests; and the Recon unit scaling the sheer rock wall of the Defile.

“Oh boy! Hot damned! I’ll whack the living shit out of them!” Gideon cried. In a moment he settled down. Fear diminished and hard work began.

Shlomo called up the numbers of the three tanks.

“Shlomo! Have Tank J move forward about twenty yards!”

“I’ve got it!”

“Tank H, raise elevation two feet!”

“Got it!”

An Egyptian squad across the wadi spotted Gideon and fired. Shlomo didn’t like it, but instructions were coming down so fast, he didn’t protest.

“Whammo! Tank H is right on target. They’re hitting the line of caves in the Defile. Keep firing and move fire fifteen yards left after each shot!”

“Got it!”

The noise was now eardrum-breaking. The sound of every shot, rifle, pistol, gun, grenade, mortar, artillery was magnified a half-dozen times by the narrow walls. The roar became gigantic. Cotton and ear plugs helped slightly, but it was almost impossible to hear and Gideon’s shouts had to be repeated a half-dozen times on each order.

“Where the fuck’s our air support!” Ben Asher demanded. “Shlomo! Where the fuck’s our air support!”

“Gideon! Can you see our air? We need their support! The canyon walls are fouling our transmissions.”

“Too tight to send them down here!” Gideon shouted. “Suggest you radio back to Colonel Z. to speak to them. Suggest you have them circle above the Defile and keep the Egyptian planes off our asses. That’s the best they can do!”

After three repeats the message got to Shlomo, who phoned it down to Ben Asher.

“Shlomo! Tell Tank K he’s firing way too high! Lower elevation at least ten degrees!”

“Got it!”

In a few moments sight of the Israeli Ouragans hovering above the scene caused an eruption of cheers, but they could no longer be heard over the din.

For two murderous hours gunfire continued to pour from the muzzles of both sides. The canyon shook and spewed rocks, as Company C fought its way in with more ammo and medical supplies.

The Recon squad continued up the face of the Defile like a group of alpine rock climbers. It was slow, torturous going. Gideon was able to direct them from his vantage point to avoid Egyptian fire.

“Ben Asher to Z. Casualties heavy! I need trucks to carry them out!”

“Medic! Medic! Medic!”

“Command to Z. Major Ben Asher has been hit! Captain Masada is taking command.”

“Z. to Masada. How badly is Ben Asher hurt?”

“Masada to Z. He’s dead.”

Another hour passed and another. The Egyptians, realizing the gunfire spotter was causing major damage, opened a mortar barrage on the semi-exposed ledge. Gideon cringed as the impact of their shells smashed his face against the rock, shattered his binoculars, and flipped him over like a pancake.

All around the canyon wall, small units of paras knocked out one enemy position after another. At last they destroyed the Egyptian mortar nest which had zeroed in on the spotter.

Para toeholds in the high ground rolled up the solid line of the Egyptian infrastructure. The paras had squeezed out some breathing and maneuvering room and continued methodically to wipe out the nests.

“Recon to Masada! We have reached the top of Heitan Defile! Casualties heavy! We should be above the main Egyptian defenses in another hour!”