Rommel had just finished writing a letter to his wife, “Dear Lu, we have some severe shortages and disadvantages, but I took the risk. If our blow is successful, it will determine the outcome of the whole war.”
General Alexander had sent the word ‘zip’ to Churchill from Cairo. Monty was confident about his defense plan. There were four hundred German tanks, half of which were equipped with the diabolical seventy-five-millimeter guns. Awaiting them were seven hundred British and American tanks. Rommel’s usual tactics were to attack the enemy forces quickly with a small force, encircle them, then try to liquidate them. The German planes began their raids on the forces in front and at the rear simultaneously to confuse and disorient them.
“The shelling is far away, Dimyan. Don’t be afraid.”
Dimyan was busy reciting prayers or incantations, of which Magd al-Din would make out only a few words: ‘Kyrie eleison,’ ‘Georgius,’ ‘Jesus,’ ‘Yuannis,’ ‘Yusab,’ ‘Kirullus,’ and ‘the Virgin.’ Dimyan, shaking, made it back to the house, followed by Magd al-Din. As soon as they were there, Dimyan collapsed and stretched out on the floor with his back against the wall. Magd al-Din stretched out near him and lit a cigarette for himself and one for Dimyan, pretending to be composed.
“There’s a lot of light,” he smiled. “I don’t think the Germans will notice a cigarette in the middle of all this shelling.”
They kept smoking is silence. Magd al-Din noticed that neither he nor Dimyan had taken off their work clothes. They even had their shoes on. They had been returning from the station a short time ago when an ammunition train arrived just before the shelling began.
The formations of Royal Tanks and Royal Scotch were defending the Alam al-Halfa plateau against the German armored offensive. The German planes had stopped for a while, but as daylight approached, they returned with a vengeance and started bombing everywhere again. From the north and the east, British and American planes came, and an intense air battle ensued and ended soon. The planes of the Allies went back to their posts in Alexandria and the Delta and to the American aircraft carrier in the Mediterranean. The German and Italian planes went back to their airports in the desert, only to return after a short while in greater numbers, going deep to the rear lines of the Eighth Army, extremely close to the railroad station and the abandoned houses, and to Magd al-Din and Dimyan. A wind swept them off their feet, and they hit the ground hard. A powerful bomb had fallen from the sky, making the air convulse around them and hurling them off their feet. Magd al-Din saw Zahra’s face, which he had almost forgotten, and he heard her scream. He shouted in a hoarse-voice “Dimyan!” but did not hear an answer. Dimyan was some distance away, looking around for Magd al-Din. When Magd al-Din saw him he went over to him.
“Are you all right?” Magd al-Din asked him.
“No.”
“Were you hit?”
“No.”
Magd al-Din understood what Dimyan meant, and he fell silent.
“Does our presence here make any sense any more?” asked Dimyan in despair.
Another shell fell near them, and even though it was not strong enough to knock them off their feet again, Magd al-Dm shouted,
“Come on, Dimyan.”
They found themselves hurrying up near the station between the tracks going cast. From behind they could hear the falling bombs and the airplanes, and they went even faster. When they had moved quite a distance away from the station, they heard a harrowing explosion that shook the air and caused them to lose their balance. They fell on the crossties, and hellish flames lit up the whole world. They realized it was the end. Dimyan remembered his nightmarish vision, and he resigned himself to death. Magd al-Din longed for his son Shawqi, whom he had never even seen. They saw, however, that the flames were far away, and when they were able to see the red sky, they realized that the explosion was at the station. After they regained their balance and could see more clearly, they saw the train that had stopped at the station. All its cars were turning into a river of fire that the German planes kept fueling. They saw the two wooden kiosks — the station-master’s room and the telegraph room— burning and flying in the air and turning into ashes. Everything was turning into ashes. Most merciful God! Eternal, living God, help us! Jesus, Mary, Prophet of God, help us, save us! They started running again.
They kept on running, never feeling hunger or pain from wounds or bruises they had suffered when the explosions threw them to the ground. And what a beautiful new day! This river of milk that was beginning to light up the dark and wash away the night. This world that God has created was so beautiful, why was it that people were destroying it? The planes kept on coming from the east and from the west, engaging in short dogfights, then disappearing only to appear again and again. The German planes bombed everything in sight until a new dogfight started. In the meantime Magd al-Din and Dimyan kept on running, sweat pouring out of every pore of their bodies and their skin and chests burning, their feet almost giving way, but who could stop in the midst of all those fires?
“I am flying, Dimyan!”
Dimyan heard and saw Magd al-Din next to him.
“And I am flying too, Magd al-Din!”
“My God, I am not running — I am flying, Dimyan!”
“And so am I, Magd al-Din!”
What bird was now carrying them on its wings! It must be the angel Gabriel, the very one who brought the good tidings to the Messenger of God. It was he who also brought the Virgin Mary tidings of her immaculate conception. Their breathing was now inaudible, they were almost anesthetized, asleep on calm waves. The bird was carrying them gently into space, their sweat was drying, and they were drinking a magic potion that imbued their veins with a secret delight. Was Gabriel taking them to Alexandria or to God in the high heavens? They were both certain of a safe end.
The distance from al-Alamein to al-Hammam is forty kilometers. Throughout that distance a god-like strength possessed Magd al-Din and Dimyan. The bombing and shelling behind them would stop, only to resume again. The battle for the hills of Alam al-Halfa was not over yet. Rommel knew that Monty’s headquarters was in Burg al-Arab and that his strategic cache of vehicles and equipment had to be attacked.
The sun had ascended the sky and gone past Magd al-Din and Dimyan and now to the German Front. All the time they felt nothing other than being carried on the wings of Gabriel. They even fell asleep while running. Had there been no train waiting at al-Hammam they would have kept on running all the way to Alexandria. How was it that they felt no hunger and no thirst? The bombing and shelling had subsided as evening settled on the second day. The civilian train stood empty at the station, which also was empty of people. The last car of the train was the one closest to them, and they got on and sat down on the first seat. The sounds of the guns roared again, and the train got ready to depart as they heaved a long and deep sigh of relief. What a good omen! They looked at each other in contentment and fell into a deep sleep.
Was it one moment? An hour? A whole lifetime that they slept? Whatever it was it was long enough for them to feel somewhat rested. It was impossible for them to remain asleep in the midst of the roar of the guns that were let loose with the new evening. Dimyan was thirsty, so he went through the other cars to look for water. In a corner he found a tap and turned it on. The water was yellowish and rusty, but he drank it anyway and went back. The train was completely empty and dark except for the moonlight coming through the broken windows.