Egypt's abrupt entry into the war came some six hours after an Iraqi assault upon an exposed portion of the Israeli lines on the West Bank. Low-flying jets reportedly spread smoke and chemical curtains ahead of a regimental-sized heliborne force which landed in the Israeli rear, cutting off the defenders from immediate aid. Though casualties among the Soviet-built Hip and Hind helicopters seem to be heavy, the follow-up infantry assault-allegedly supported by mustard gas from artillery-gained "considerable ground," according to Baghdad sources.
The present Cairo government has been far more sympathetic to the Muslim alliance of Iran, Iraq, Syria, and Libya than its predecessor. Following the death of President Khalid Amad and many of his cabinet ministers in a still-unsolved air crash five years ago, Egypt has edged ever closer to an outright alliance with the hard-line Arab states. But sources in the capitol still expressed surprise at the size and scale of the Egyptian army offensive.
Military observers in the Middle East have noted over the past two weeks that Israel's Jordanian front lines were overextended in the face of so strong an assault from Lebanon southward. The Iraqi attack should not have come as a complete surprise, say some analysts, since the corps which launched the combined-arms assault was known to be capable of such action. The corps commander, General Hassan Gamail, reportedly gained such experience during the eight-year war with Iran.
Western military attaches, queried about the new development, expressed doubt that Israel could sustain its present position in Jordan.
Without actually stating its aim, the Arab coalition seems to have abandoned its avowed goal of merely expelling Israel from occupied Jordan and the West Bank, said one diplomat. That same concern has been expressed in statements from Geneva, Paris, Washington and the United Nations.
The Soviet ambassador's heels clicked on the concrete, echoing in the Second Avenue subway station. Twenty paces behind him two security agents kept pace with the fast-walking diplomat. Several blocks to the north was the United Nations Building. Anatoli Servenoff was one of the few old men left in the upper strata of the Soviet hierarchy. A new clique finally had replaced most of the World War II generation, but a few remained because of influence or ability. The United Nations ambassador had both.
As a twenty-four-year-old, Servenoff had been a petty bureaucrat in the Ukraine when the Germans struck in 1941. He had saved himself from liquidation-the usual fate of Communist Party members-by offering to cooperate in locating and exterminating every Jew in his district. He had worked hard and effectively for two years before making a dash for Soviet lines. Taking with him information and marginally useful documents, Servenoff had ingratiated himself with his superiors, who commended him for his espionage work among the Nazi barbarians. By 1945 he was a security commissar, still rounding up "unreliable" elements among the Jewish population.
The prospect of speaking directly and privately to the Israeli ambassador to the United Nations was distasteful to Servenoff. There was a metallic tinge in the Russian's mouth, and he spat several times trying to dislodge the bitter saliva. But the Soviet ambassador, like many of his Kremlin colleagues, was a master of expressionless demeanor. Secretary of State Thurmon Wilson had once remarked, "They may be a nation of chess players but their negotiating face would do credit to a master poker player."
Servenoff glanced around to satisfy himself that nobody was within earshot. He had been directed by Moscow to present his message to the Israelis without a chance of being recorded or overheard. One hundred yards ahead, approaching from the opposite direction, he recognized the Israeli ambassador, Avrim Ran. As if on signal, the Israeli bodyguards stopped when the Soviets halted. The two diplomats continued walking toward one another, each with hands in his pockets.
Neither man extended a hand in greeting.
Ran stared unblinking at the Soviet. He knew Servenoff's life story, knew that this man could be relied upon at Politburo meetings to push for harsher treatment of Soviet Jews. Western efforts to increase Jewish emigration from Russia drew mixed reaction from Servenoff. On the one hand, he wished every Jew gone from the Soviet Union-even the "good" Jews who abounded in Russian life and the Communist hierarchy. On the other hand, a lifetime of harassing, prosecuting, and deporting Jews had become ingrained habit.
Without preamble the Soviet diplomat spoke in near-perfect English. "Ambassador Ran, my government has directed me to convey to you in the most forceful terms the following: Because of our long fraternal relationship with the oppressed Arab peoples, Soviet friendship and assistance for them is a cornerstone of our Middle East policy." He swallowed but the metallic taste lingered. "We have viewed with alarm over the past twenty years the possession by your country of nuclear weaponry. Our intelligence is unassailable." He was sorely tempted to add that much of the information came from inside Israel. Some people would do anything to contact relatives still in Russia.
"We know that Israel has approximately one hundred such weapons." This with a faint smile. But the Soviet was. slightly disappointed when Ran gave no sign of surprise.
"Mr. Ambassador." Ran's voice was even, controlled. "What has this to do with current events in my nation? After all, your client states have invaded Israel."
Servenoff never tired of sloganeering. "After your own illegal invasion of Jordan, and the cruelties practiced upon the Palestinian peoples displaced from their homeland, the Arabs are united in opposition to Israel's military arrogance. We Soviets have no desire to see war come again to your region, but we will supply our Arab friends with whatever weapons are necessary for their legitimate defense. This is the message I deliver to you." He held up a stubby finger. "If you Jews-" He halted from force of diplomatic habit. "If you use atomic weapons against the Arab states, the Soviet Union will immediately provide nuclear-armed artillery shells which could reach almost anywhere in your country. I tell you in candor that these weapons are in position at this very minute."
The Russian glared at Ran for a long moment. The Israeli made no comment. Then, without another word, Servenoff turned on his heel and walked briskly toward his waiting men.
That night Avrim Ran flew to Washington for an emergency meeting with Tel Aviv's ambassador to the United States and the chief military attache. Already a motion condemning the Arab invasion of Israel had been defeated in the Security Council by the Soviet veto. However, Ran now held no illusions about the power of diplomacy. He intended to help press the Arnold Administration as hard as possible to intervene in some form.
Ran told his dinner companions about the Soviet decree. They dined in Mordechai Weissman's apartment, free to converse without distraction from other Israeli embassy personnel. But Ran was visibly shaken. "I think they mean it, Mordechai. This doesn't sound like a bluff."
The diplomats turned to General Lom Olmert. They asked his opinion.
"I don't see that we have any choice," Olmert said. "If we do not employ our nuclear force, we'll go under in a week-two at the absolute most. On the other hand, if we issue a pronouncement, threatening their use, that may provoke the Soviets into carrying out a preemptive strike."
Ambassador Weissman said, "Then it's over for us, one way or the other."
Olmert shook his head and sipped some wine. "I'm inclined to believe the nuclear option should be played without announcement. It increases the shock value and forces the Arabs into a defensive mindset."