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This interlude instantly conferred on us the desert equivalent of street cred.
The next morning, Talik agreed we could accompany the Seventh Brigade as it
moved deeper into the Sinai, and peel off when we got closer to Gebel Libni to
complete our “sayeret mission.” Given the early course of the fighting, and our
forces’ rapid advances in the Sinai, I couldn’t help wondering whether there
was any real need to defuse, much less remove, the bugging machinery. But the
very fact that the kirya, in the early hours of the war, had still wanted us to try
was a reflection of the deep sense of apprehension in Israel in the weeks before
the war. Even now, it appeared, there was a concern that the Egyptians might
reclaim the parts of the Sinai which we had captured.
When the armored column got close to Gebel Libni, I pulled our Jeep aside
and headed for the stretch of communications cable where we’d planted the
intercept. For several hours, I tried to accomplish in broad daylight what I’d
failed to do in the desert darkness four months earlier. But it was no use. I
finally told Avraham we’d be better off just blowing it up. I attached an
explosive charge and set a two-minute delay. We watched from a couple of
hundred yards away as the whole assembly disintegrated. Then we rejoined the
Seventh Brigade.
Before sunset on the third day of the war, we reached the Egyptian air base
at Bir Gafgafa in the heart of the Sinai. Even had the war ended then, we would
have been in control of a large chunk of the desert buffer zone which Ben-
Gurion had hoped to retain after the 1956 war. But now, more quickly than even
the most optimistic planners in the kirva could have anticipated, Talik was
poised to move on — toward the Suez Canal, and the main towns and cities of
Egypt. As the Seventh Brigade billeted down in Bir Gafgafa, Talik sent his
reserve brigade westward, in the direction of the canal.
We went with them. The battalion was more mobile than a pure tank force,
but also more vulnerable: lightly armored French AMX-13s and a collection of
the halftracks which I dimly, unfondly, remembered from my fironut. A few of
the AMXs led the way, then a line of halftracks, and more tanks at the rear. I
nosed our Jeep into the middle, behind the battalion commander, a lieutenant-
colonel named Ze’ev Eitan. There were scattered groups of Egyptian soldiers on
either side of us, and they aimed an occasional burst of fire in our direction. But
there seemed little point in shooting back. We didn’t need to fight, and it was
clear that the Egyptians didn’t really want to.
Shortly before dark, Lieutenant-Colonel Eitan brought our column to halt.
The road we were on cut through tall sandunes on either side. We knew there
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