Strategy and Politics in the Middle East, 1954-1960: Defending the Northern Tier

STRATEGY AND POLITICS IN THE MIDDLE EAST 1954–1960 This is the second of the two volumes written by Professor Michael ...

Author: Michael Cohen

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STRATEGY AND POLITICS IN THE MIDDLE EAST 1954–1960

This is the second of the two volumes written by Professor Michael J. Cohen on Allied strategy and diplomacy in the Middle East during the initial decades of the Cold War. They constitute a single work, although they can be read as distinct, separate entities. Volume I, Fighting World War Three from the Middle East: Allied Contingency Plans, 1945–1954, covered the first decade after World War Two, a period during which, in the event of a new global conflict, the British Base in Egypt was to have served as a launching platform and staging-post for aircraft carrying out the Allied strategic air offensive against the Soviet Union. The period covered by this second volume witnessed a distinct change in Allied strategy for the Middle East. By 1955, it was believed that a global conflict with the Soviets was unlikely in the short term. Strategic planning for a defence of the Middle East against a Soviet offensive continued, but it was relegated to a long-term contingency. The focus of Allied strategy switched to the states of the so-called northern tier of the Middle East – Turkey, Iraq, Iran and Pakistan. Allied planning focused now on the blocking of a future Soviet offensive against the Middle East at the strategic passes that cut through the Zagros mountains, which lay across the Iraqi–Iranian border. This was to be done with the indigenous ground forces of the northern-tier states, complemented by Allied strategic and tactical nuclear bombing. The Baghdad Pact became the political expression of the new strategy. The West’s economic and strategic interests in the Middle East provide the context for the tumultuous events of this period: the Anglo-Egyptian Agreement of 1954 for the evacuation of Egypt; the formation of the Baghdad Pact in 1955; the Suez Crisis which, together with the escalating Arab–Israeli conflict, erupted predictably into open war in November 1956; and finally, the crises that rocked the Middle East in July, 1958 – the fall of the Hashemite dynasty and the ancien regime in Iraq, and the English and American military interventions in Jordan and the Lebanon, respectively. These last few events constituted the final act in a drama that had begun in 1955. They were followed inevitably in the Spring of 1959 by Iraq's departure from the Baghdad Pact, and the renaming of its rump as the Central Treaty Organisation (CENTO). This book reveals the extent to which the UK clung on to great-power pretensions and used bluff, not to say downright deception, in order to give the impression that she disposed of greater resources than was in fact the case.

Works by the same author Fighting World War Three from the Middle East: Allied Contingency Plans, 1945–1954 (1997) (Hebrew edition: 1998) Truman and Israel (1990) Palestine to Israel: From Mandate to Independence (1988) The Origins of the Arab-Zionist Conflict, 1914–1948 (1987) Churchill and the Jews (1985; paperback edition, 2003) Palestine and the Great Powers, 1945–1948 (1982) Palestine: Retreat from the Mandate, 1936–1945 (1978)

Editor The Demise of Empire: Britain’s Responses to Nationalist Movements in the Middle East, 1943–1955 (with Martin Kolinsky), (1998) British and the Middle East in the 1930s: Security Problems, 1935–1939 (with Martin Kolinsky) (1992) Bar-IIan Studies in Modern History, vol. III (1991)

Editor of documentary series The History of the Founding of Israel, Part III, The Struggle for the State of Israel, 1939–1948, 12 volumes (1988) The Weizmann Letters, volumes XX, XXI, 1940–1943, 1943–1945 (1979)

Michael J. Cohen holds the Lazarus Philips Chair in History at the University of Bar-IIan. Previously he was visiting Professor at the Universities of Stanford, Duke, Maryland and North Carolina. He has been a member of the Institute of Advanced Studies at Princeton.

Strategy and Politics in the Middle East will take its place alongside Michael Cohen’s Fighting World War III as a classic work of scholarship on the strategic history of the Middle East. His meticulous research and sustained analysis illuminate the intricate interplay between client states and the Western powers in the 1950s. It is an excellent work that will be indispensable for reference as well as interpretation. Wm Roger Louis The Universities of Oxford and Texas at Austin This book brings out very clearly the resulting Anglo-American tensions, and also the reluctance of the USA simply to take over Britain’s former role as the policeman of the Middle East. It also reveals that America’s relationship with Israel was a restraint upon her freedom of action in the area and her ability to forge alliances with Arab states. Professor Roger Lockyer Royal Holloway College This is an important new study by a well-known expert in its field. It is a sequel to Professor Cohen’s earlier book, Fighting World War III from the Middle East, but stands independently of it. It shows a thorough familiarity with the large secondary reading on the topic, and draws extensively on new findings from archival research in Britain and the US. It is written as a series of overlapping analytical and thematic chapters, covering most of the 1950s but with a special concentration on the years of the Eisenhower presidency and on the run-up to and aftermath of the 1956 Suez crisis. It provides an excellent (and withering) critique of the failings of British policy in that crisis, but its focus is less on Suez itself than on Anglo-American strategic planning for the defence of the Middle East…. Professor Cohen has done his spadework thoroughly, and his text is both presented with great clarity and enlivened by striking quotations, many of them new and unfamiliar. It is of wider significance than its title suggests. The author uses his focus on strategic planning in order to illuminate the semi-colonial prejudices that Western leaders brought to their Middle Eastern policies, to explore Britain’s decline as a global power, and to document the stresses and strains in the Anglo-American special relationship. His book is full of fascinating material, much of continuing relevance to the dilemmas faced by Western policymakers in the Middle East today. Professor David Stevenson The London School of Economics

STRATEGY AND POLITICS IN THE MIDDLE EAST 1954–1960 Defending the Northern Tier

Michael J. Cohen

First published 2005 by Frank Cass, an imprint of Taylor & Francis 2 Park Square, Milton Park, Abingdon, Oxon OX14 4RN Simultaneously published in the USA and Canada by Frank Cass 270 Madison Ave, New York, NY 10016 This edition published in the Taylor & Francis e-Library, 2005. “To purchase your own copy of this or any of Taylor & Francis or Routledge’s collection of thousands of eBooks please go to www.eBookstore.tandf.co.uk.” Frank Cass is an imprint of the Taylor & Francis Group © 2005 Michael J. Cohen All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reprinted or reproduced or utilized in any form or by any electronic, mechanical, or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publishers. The publisher makes no representation, express or implied, with regard to the accuracy of the information contained in this book and cannot accept any legal responsibility or liability for any errors or omissions that may be made. British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library Library of Congress Cataloging in Publication Data A catalog record for this book has been requested ISBN 0-203-33921-5 Master e-book ISBN

ISBN 0–714–65630–5 (Print Edition)

FOR OFRA

It is an impermissible and even harmful distinction, according to which a great military event or the plan for such an event should admit a purely military judgement; indeed, it is an unreasonable procedure to consult professional soldiers on the plan of war, that they may give a purely military opinion . . . but still more absurd is the demand of theorists that a statement of the available means of war should be laid before the General, that he may draw up a purely military plan for the campaign in accordance with them.*

* Carl von Clausewitz, On War (New York: Modern Library, 1943) quoted in Aurel Brown (ed.). The Middle East in Global Strategy (Boulden, Colorado: Westview Press, 1987), pp. 4–5.

CONTENTS

List of maps Acknowledgements List of abbreviations

x xi xii

Introduction

1

1 Allied global strategy

4

2 British assets in the Middle East

24

3 The British strategic concept for the Middle East

37

4 The Arab–Israeli problem

49

5 The Northern Tier takes shape

67

6 The formation of the Baghdad Pact

84

7 Anglo-American-Turkish staff planning, 1955 to 1956

106

8 Baghdad Pact planning, 1955 to 1956

118

9 Allied intervention in a Middle East war, 1955 to 1956

135

10 The consequences of Suez

155

11 Allied strategy in the Middle East after Suez

174

12 From the Baghdad Pact to CENTO

198

Conclusion

215

Notes Bibliography Index

220 262 269 ix

MAPS

1 2 3

The Middle East and the Northern Tier The mountain ranges: the Taurus, Zagros and Elburz The Persian Gulf: Kuwait and the Al-Ahmadi Oil Complex

x

xiv 43 201

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

I would like to thank the Centre for International Studies at the London School of Economics and Political Science for granting me a Visiting Fellowship for 2002/03, during which I completed this manuscript; also the Eisenhower World Affairs Institute, for a travel grant that helped me to carry out research at the Eisenhower Presidential Library in Abilene, Kansas. I would also like to thank the various staffs of the archives and libraries that helped me during my research: Thomas W. Branigar of the Dwight D. Eisenhower Presidential Library, Abilene; the staff of the National Archives at College Park, Maryland; and the staff of the Pubic Record Office, Kew Gardens, London.* I am pleased also to acknowledge the help and advice of colleagues given during the preparation of this book: Nigel Ashton and David Stevenson (The London School of Economics); Elizabeth Cobbs-Hoffman (San Diego State University); Stuart Cohen (Bar-Ilan University); Martin Kolinsky (The University of Birmingham); and Wm. Roger Louis (The University of Texas, Austin). Special thanks are due to Dr Roger Lockyer, Reader Emeritus (Royal Holloway College, the University of London). Roger was my first teacher when I began my BA studies in History, some 37 years ago. If there are any virtues at all in my writing style, they are due to a large extent to my initiation in the art at his hands. Roger is a recognized authority on Tudor and Stuart England. He was therefore the ideal man to read my draft manuscript – a professional historian, but a layman in regard to the Middle East. He has indeed given my work the perceptive and incisive scrutiny that I knew he would. A circle has thereby been closed between us – from tutor to mentor and, of course, good friend. It is therefore with a special gratitude that I express my thanks to him here. Naturally, I alone am responsible for what follows. Chapter 9 first appeared, in an expanded version in The Journal of Strategic Studies, vol. 26/2, June 2003, pp. 152–183. All unpublished Crown copyright material from the Public Record Office appears by permission of the Controller of HM Stationery Office. * In April 2003, the Public Record Office at Kew Gardens changed its name to The National Archives. Having already completed the major part of this book, I have retained the former name.

xi

ABBREVIATIONS

ACAS Assistant Chief of the Air Staff (UK) ACSP Arab Collective Security Pact ALMSP Arab League Mutual Security Pact ARAMCO Arabian-American Oil Company (Saudi Arabia) BC Bomber Command (Royal Air Force) BDCC, ME British Defence Coordinating Committee, Middle East BJSM British Joint Staff Mission (Washington, DC) CAS Chief of the Air Staff (UK) CENTO Central Treaty Organisation C-in-C Commander-in-Chief CIA Central Intelligence Agency (USA) CIGS Chief of the Imperial General Staff (UK) CINCELM Commander-in-chief, US Naval Forces, East Atlantic and Mediterranean (US) CMPS Combined Military Planning Staff (Baghdad Pact) CNO Chief of Naval Operations (US) COS Chief of Staff (UK) DF/GA Day Fighter/Ground Attack Aircraft FY Fiscal Year (US) GHQ General Headquarters GSP Global Strategy Paper HQ Headquarters IAF Israeli Air Force IDF Israeli Defence Forces IPC Iraqi Petroleum Company ICBM Inter-Continental Ballistic Missile JCS Joint Chiefs of Staff (US) JIC Joint Intelligence Committee (UK) JMEPC Joint Middle East Planning Committee (US) JMEPG Joint Middle East Planning Group (US) JPS Joint Planning Staff (US and UK) JSOP Joint Strategic Objectives Plan (US) xii

A B B R E V I AT I O N S

JSPC JSPG LOC MAP MAAG MATS MDAA MDAP MEAF MEC MECOM MEDO MELF NA NEA NSC OCB ODM PPS PRO RAF RCT SAC SACEUR SEATO SHAPE SIGINT SNIE SLRAF TAF UAR USAF VCAS

Joint Strategic Plans Committee (US) Joint Strategic Plans Group (US) Lines of Communication Military Assistance Program (US) Military Assistance Advisory Group (US) Military Air Transport Service (US) Mutual Defense Assistance Act (US) Mutual Defense Assistance Program (US) Middle East Air Force (UK) Middle East Command (Allied) Middle East Command (US) Middle East Defence Organisation (Allied) Middle East Land Forces (UK) National Archives (US) Department of Near Eastern and African Affairs, US State Department National Security Council (US) Operations Coordinating Board (US) Office of Defense Mobilisation (US) Policy Planning Staff (UK and US) Public Record Office (UK – now renamed National Archive) Royal Air Force (UK) Regimental Combat Team (US) Strategic Air Command (US) Supreme Allied Command, Europe South-East Asia Treaty Organisation Supreme Headquarters, Allied Powers, Europe Signals Intelligence Special National Intelligence Estimate (US) Soviet Long-Range Air Force Territorial Air Force (RAF contingent in Germany) United Arab Republic (Union of Egypt and Syria, January 1958) United States Air Force Vice Chief of the Air Staff (UK)

xiii

BLACK SEA

Tb Batumi

TURKEY

Erzurum

Diarbakir Mardin Urfa Iskenderun

Mehabad Rowanduz Mosul

Aleppo Kirkuk

Hama Cyprus

Tripoli

SYRIA

LEBANON Beirut DAMASCUS Haifa Mafraq Tel Aviv Port Jerusalem AMMAN Said

MEDITERRANEAN SEA

Alexandria

CAIRO

Suez

L

Habbaniya Rutba

P Ke

BAGHDAD

IRAQ

ISRAEL JORDAN Ma'an Aqaba

S

EGYPT SAUDI RED SEA

Map 1 The Middle East and the Northern Tier. Source: Appendix E to Annex to JIC (59) 24 (Final).

ARABIA

CA SP N IA

Tbilisi

SE A

Baku

Tabriz d z

k

Lake Urmia

Bandar Shah (C) TEHERAN

Penjwin (Senneh)

Paitak Khurramabad

AFGHANISTAN

IRAN Dizful Yezd Ahwaz Basra Abadan Shaiba

Shiraz KUWAIT

PAKISTAN

PE RS IA N

Bahrein

GU LF

uz G U rm

Qatar

Bandar Abbas f Ho it o ra t S

MUSCAT AND OMAN

LF

Karachi OF

O MAN

ARABIAN SEA

INTRODUCTION

This is the second of two volumes that I have written on Allied contingency planning in the Middle East during the first decades of the Cold War.* While they should stand as a single work, they may also be read as distinct, separate entities. I believe that it is only against the background of Western strategic planning for this region that the student of this cataclysmic period can understand fully the tumultuous events which followed each other in such rapid progression: the Anglo-Egyptian Agreement of 1954 for the evacuation of the British Military Base in Egypt; the formation of the Baghdad Pact in 1955, and the attendant Egyptian-Iraqi rivalry for the hegemony of the Arab world; the Suez Crisis which, together with the escalating Arab–Israeli conflict, erupted predictably into open war in October 1956; and finally, the crises that rocked the Middle East in July 1958 – the fall of the Hashemite dynasty and the ancien regime in Iraq, and the Anglo-American military interventions in Jordan and the Lebanon respectively. These last events constituted the final act in a drama that had begun in 1955. They were followed inevitably in the Spring of 1959 by Iraq’s departure from the Baghdad Pact, and the renaming of its rump as the Central Treaty Organisation (CENTO). During the first decade after the war, the British base in Egypt was to have served as a launching platform and staging post for aircraft carrying out the Allied strategic air offensive against the Soviet Union and her satellites. Western planners believed that in the event of new world conflict, the Soviets’ first strategic priority would be the conquest of western Europe. But they were convinced that the Soviets would launch a simultaneous, secondary offensive against the Middle East. If they succeeded, the Soviets would be able to exploit to their own advantage the region’s strategic assets – its oil resources and its strategic bases. A Soviet occupation of the Middle East would also turn NATO’s right flank. The period covered by this volume witnessed a distinct change in Allied strategy for the Middle East. By 1955, Western strategists no longer believed that a global conflict with the Soviets was likely in the short term. (even if there always remained * The first was Fighting World War Three from the Middle East: Allied Contingency Plans, 1945–54, London: Frank Cass, 1997 (Hebrew Edition, 1998).

1

I N T RO D U C T I O N

the possibility that a general war might develop from a miscalculation, or mistake). Nor did the planners believe that the Soviets would risk a wider conflict for the sake of any interests they had in this region (that is, at the time of the Suez War in 1956). While strategic planning for a defence of the Middle East against a Soviet offensive proceeded apace, it was relegated to a long-term contingency. However, apart from their continuing long-term strategic interests (which required access via an advanced infrastructure to bases in the region) – the Allies had substantial economic interests in the Middle East – primarily oil. In order to guarantee the continued enjoyment of their concessions during the Cold War, the Allies’ objective in the region was to ensure the allegiance of the indigenous Moslem states to the West. In order to retain their influence during the Cold War, the Allies still had to convince those states of their ability and readiness to defend them in the ultimate event of a Soviet offensive. The British decision of 1954 to evacuate their forces from Egypt had been preceded by a radical transformation of Allied strategy for the Middle East. Economic stringency dictated a drastic reduction of the UK’s commitments overseas. The successful testing of the hydrogen bomb by both Superpowers in the early 1950s, as well as the development of more efficient, longer-range delivery systems, all produced a radical review of the UK’s grand strategy. The UK now feared that the canal base had become vulnerable to a single thermonuclear strike. It adopted, therefore, a new ‘mobile strategy’, one that reduced overseas garrisons to a minimum and posited a strategic reserve of long-range mobile forces based in the UK. From 1954, Cyprus replaced Egypt as the launch pad for the UK Canberra bombers that were earmarked for the strategic air offensive against the Soviet Union. Since the late 1940s, the Americans had been building up a strategic base in Turkey. In particular, the Turkish air base at Incerlik, near Adana, was developed by the Americans in order to accommodate rotating units of the Strategic Air Command (SAC). In 1957, an agreement was signed between the two countries that granted the US the right to station in Turkey tactical aircraft armed with nuclear weapons. By the mid-1950s, the Americans had also made significant progress in the development of a long-range air-strike capability. Allied plans for a ground defence of the Middle East now focussed on its ‘outer ring’ – along the two mountain ranges that guarded its northern approaches: the Taurus, which divided Turkey from Syria, and the Zagros, which divided Iran from Iraq. The states along whose borders these mountains ran – Iraq, Iran, Pakistan and Turkey – became known as the Northern Tier. The Allies committed themselves to the use of nuclear weapons, both strategic and tactical, to defend the Middle East. Nuclear interdiction of the Soviet offensive would take place at the limited number of narrow passes that cut through the Taurus and Zagros mountains. The Allies hoped that small, high-impact, mainly indigenous forces would be able to block the remnants of any Soviet forces that survived the nuclear strikes. In 1955, the Baghdad Pact became the political expression of the new strategy. With the formation of the Pact, the Allies at last realized their long-held ambition 2

I N T RO D U C T I O N

of setting up a regional security system in the Middle East. However, neither of the Allies apparently foresaw the feud that the Pact provoked between Nasser’s Egypt and Nuri Said’s Iraq. Their rivalry dominated and divided the Arab world for most of the period covered by this volume. The UK joined the Baghdad Pact in April 1955, thereby ensuring for herself the continued use of the strategic air bases at Shaiba and Habbaniya, in Iraq. Even if the US never joined the Pact formally, it nonetheless played an active role in the deliberations of all its key institutions. The US also spent huge sums of money on building up the armed forces and logistic infrastructures of the indigenous Moslem members of the Pact. In comparison, British investment in the Pact was insignificant. Against the wider context of global and regional contingency planning, the continuing Arab-Israel conflict remained for the Allies a festering and most unwelcome irritant. Both London and Washington were convinced that Israel’s presence in the region was largely responsible for their failure to set up a proWestern security bloc in the Arab Middle East. The ‘inner core’ of Arab states, especially Egypt, the strongest, was too preoccupied with taking their revenge on Israel, for the humiliating defeat they had suffered at her hands in 1948. The Egyptians had little time for giving serious thought to a Western – sponsored (read ‘imperialist’) defence of the region against the more remote, somewhat abstract threats allegedly posed by the Soviet Union. And finally, it should be remembered that during the period covered by this volume, not only did British military forces fight one war in the Middle East – at Suez, in November 1956 – but Allied planners were kept busy drafting plans for several other contingencies, primarily for the defence of the Middle East against a Soviet offensive in the event of a new, global conflict. Next, from 1955–56, the Allies drew up plans to deter or, failing that, to intervene with military force against the aggressor in the event of a new ‘local’ conflict between Egypt and Israel. Lastly, since the early 1950s, British planners prepared plans against Israel, in the event that she attacked Jordan, Britain’s protégé and ally. In sum, it may be stated that these were indeed turbulent, violent years for the Middle East.

3

1 ALLIED GLOBAL STRATEGY

By 1960, research into the development of still more destructive weapons had virtually come to a halt, not because they could not be made but because they would only make the rubble bounce. (Martin Van Creveld)1

Whereas the subject of this book is the Atlantic Allies’ strategy and diplomacy in the Middle East, this introductory chapter is an attempt to delineate, even in brief, some of the major developments in their global strategic thinking and planning during the 1950s. Rapid changes took place as a result of the revolution in weapons’ technology that occurred during the same period. These developments had significant ramifications for Anglo-American relations in general.2 Their impact upon Allied strategy in the Middle East will be among the major themes of this book. Throughout the period under consideration here, the UK retained primary responsibility for and provided the major Western military presence in the Middle East. However, British strategy and military planning in this theatre was always an adjunct of their global strategy as a whole and, since World War Two, of their increasing dependence, both military and economic, upon the US. By corollary, the Americans’ post-war need for air bases on British or British-controlled territory allowed the UK to continue to play a significant role in what has been called ‘the security politics of the nuclear age’.3 In particular, the UK’s Middle Eastern assets provided the US with ‘the essential link in a growing chain of bases that made the American nuclear threat credible’.4

From conventional to nuclear strategy At the beginning of the 1950s, the Soviet bloc’s conventional dominance in Europe was intimidating. The UK and the US maintained only two under-strength divisions and small airforces in West Germany – these faced 22 Soviet and satellite divisions in East Germany. Overall, some 14 divisions of the North Atlantic 4

A L L I E D G L O BA L S T R AT E G Y

Treaty Organisation (NATO) in Western Europe faced nearly 210 Soviet and satellite divisions in the East.5* All NATO military planning was based upon the assumption that in the event of Soviet aggression, an attempt would be made to hold Western Europe. But in 1950, the American Joint Chiefs informed their British counterparts that no American forces would be deployed for the defence of the Rhine until three months after D-day, and that if the European alliance had collapsed by that time, these forces would be re-directed to North Africa. For their part, the British were not about to build up a continental army. But in 1953, encouraged by the huge rearmament presaged by the Eisenhower administration’s ‘New Look’ strategy (see below), the British Chiefs conceded that some conventional forces would have to be committed to the continent – if only to sustain the American commitment to Europe.6 British Planners now proposed to station in Europe four divisions and tactical air forces in peacetime, in addition to the three brigades already in Berlin, Austria and Trieste. In war, two additional divisions would be deployed on the continent, by D ⫹ 90 days.7 In 1953, the Middle East was relegated to sixth place in Allied strategic priorities, after the securing of ‘the main allied support areas’ of the United Kingdom, the US, the British Commonwealth, and Western Europe, and their essential lines of communications (LOC) by sea and air. The defence of the Middle East and the key LOCs would come after all these, if possible.8 At its February 1952 meeting in Lisbon, NATO had defined unrealistically high conventional-force goals for the defence of Western Europe: namely, the creation by the end of the year of a 51-division army and a 4,000-aircraft air force (from the current 34 divisions and 2,900 aircraft). The Lisbon goals were beyond NATO’s political and budgetary potential. They have been called ‘a charade, the beginning of the end to NATO’s Korean War-inspired rearmament and the eclipse of any hopes of reviving conventional deterrence’.9 But even the Lisbon force goals fell far short of what NATO studies considered would be the minimum conventional forces necessary to meet the anticipated Soviet threat to Europe. In 1951, a NATO assessment of Soviet force levels (MC 33), predicted that by 1954 Soviet armed forces would rise to between 5.9 and 7.2 millions. They would deploy opposite NATO forces in Europe some 175 to 180 Soviet, and a further 65 to 70 satellite divisions, as well as a rapidly modernising air force of some 20,000 front line aircraft. The report concluded that in order to prevail over these forces, NATO would need some 90 divisions and nearly 10,000 aircraft by the close of 1954.10

* It is difficult to specify accurately the exact number of soldiers facing each other on the opposing sides, due to the varying sizes of military formations from country to country, and the periodical reorganization of their armies. In the 1950s, an American infantry division approximated 17,700 men, and an armoured division, 15,000; A Soviet tank division approximated 11,500 men, and a mechanized (including infantry) division 12,500–14,000. A British infantry division numbered 18,000, and an armoured division 16,500 men.

5


Not only did the Soviet bloc enjoy great numerical superiority, but its system of universal conscription gave it an extra advantage. The Americans estimated that by 1955 the Soviets would be able to mobilize an extra 125 divisions within 30 days of the declaration of an emergency, for a grand total of 300 divisions. Against this, NATO would be fortunate to dispose of 100 divisions, of which the American contingent would be approximately 30.11 Inevitably, the Allied heads of government and the military on both sides of the Atlantic concluded that they would never be able to match Soviet conventional strength, either in manpower or in weapons. The remedy chosen was nuclear energy. Until the development of thermonuclear weapons, the early atomic age was informed by strategic premises similar to those employed in World War Two. The first atomic bombs were regarded as enhanced conventional weapons: The early atomic bombs were not so powerful that numbers and accuracy were no longer important. Defense against bombers could still make a difference; base location would remain important . . . and armies and navies would continue to play a significant role in defending these bases . . . It therefore still made sense militarily to try to destroy the enemy’s war-making capability by destroying his economy.12 Initial British contingency plans for global war against the Soviets, drawn up in the late 1940s, followed the precedent of World War Two. They focused on the destruction of the Soviets’oil production and distribution systems. Indeed, this had been the British chiefs’ primary rationale when arguing the case for the retention of the British base in Egypt; and for the development there of air bases that would be able to accommodate the American strategic heavy bombers, the B-29s. The Chiefs even argued that the presence of strategic air bases in Egypt would deter the Soviets from any attack on the UK itself.13 However, the explosion of the first Soviet nuclear device in August 1949 produced in the UK a unique sense of vulnerability, which would influence all future British nuclear strategy. In contrast, until the late 1950s, the Americans felt relatively safe from a Soviet atomic attack. US targeting plans also focused on Soviet petroleum and refinery sources, but became increasingly indiscriminate, adding population and industrial centres to the Strategic Air Command’s (SAC) target list. This strategy was due also to the absence of reliable intelligence data, and to the plethora of atomic bombs that came on line. However, once the Soviets acquired operational nuclear devices, the US also began to adopt counter-military targeting.14 It has been suggested that Stalin dared to risk the first crises of the Cold War (in the Near East, Czechoslovakia, Berlin and Korea), ‘because he knew that the US did not yet have the capacity to attack and be sure of vanquishing the Soviet Union.’15 Whatever the case, we now know that Stalin had in fact initiated research into the development of a Soviet atomic bomb very early on in World War Two. 6


From the early 1950s, the development of thermonuclear weapons produced a revolution in strategic thinking. The British chiefs believed that the hydrogen bomb had ‘fundamentally changed the whole nature of war’. The new weapon held out the prospect of eradicating the problem of the UK’s unique vulnerability. Instead of ‘the more the better’ belief in even greater numbers of atomic bombs, it now appeared that a limited number of thermonuclear devices might guarantee the security of the UK, and finally permit the drastic reductions sought in spending on conventional forces.16 The switch to a strategy of nuclear deterrence, as opposed to actually fighting an atomic war – made by the British in 1952, the Americans one year later and NATO in 1954 – was an inevitable by-product of American–Soviet competition in what was essentially a technological revolution, This revolution in weaponry, featuring the development of nuclear explosives and rocket-propelled missiles, combined with the need for economic stringency, transformed the Allies’ global strategy. However, there were distinctive differences of emphasis in their respective nuclear strategies. In November 1952, the US was the first to explode a thermonuclear device, the Hydrogen bomb. The Soviets detonated their own hydrogen bomb within less than a year, in August 1953. By the end of 1955, both had acquired the ability to deliver the new weapon by aircraft to each other’s homeland. By the second half of the decade, they were also developing missiles that would be able to deliver the new bombs almost instantaneously to targets on the other’s territory.17 The Americans began to develop intercontinental ballistic missiles (ICBMs) in 1947. They were designed to deliver nuclear warheads to targets at a distance of more than 5,000 miles, at velocities that would ‘defy interception’. Work on the new rocket, known as the Atlas, was at first intermittent and plagued by lack of funding. However, the advent of the Soviet hydrogen bomb, and US Intelligence forecasts that the Soviets would have their own ICBM operational by 1963, soon led to a thawing of funds for further ICBM research. In September 1955, President Eisenhower approved a National Security Council (NSC) recommendation to pursue the development of an American ICBM on an urgent basis.18 But the Soviets beat the Americans in the race to test successfully the world’s first ICBM. In August 1957, their first test rocket travelled over 4,000 miles. Two months later, in October, they used their third test to launch Sputnik, the world’s first space rocket, which carried a satellite into orbit around the earth. The Americans’ first, intermediate-range ICBM, the Thor missile, became operational in 1958. The American Navy would soon deploy the Polaris, a submarinelaunched missile, which would give the US ‘quantitative and qualitative superiority’ for some years to come. However, as foretold by Western Intelligence, the age of mutual vulnerability had arrived well before the end of the decade.19 The UK lagged behind the two Superpowers in the development of a nuclear arsenal. She exploded her first atomic bomb in November 1952; it became operational one year later (the Attlee government in fact acted unconstitutionally in appropriating huge sums for the development of nuclear and thermonuclear 7


weapons without informing Parliament).20 In July 1954, the Churchill administration decided to develop a British hydrogen bomb. Churchill became convinced that the UK could not remain in the ‘Great Power club’ without it, and Chancellor of the Exchequer Butler saw it as a means wherewith to reduce defence outlays on conventional forces. The first British thermonuclear device was exploded in 1958.21 The British also lagged several years behind their American ally in the development of airborne delivery systems. In January 1955, by which time the Americans were already well advanced in missile technology, the RAF took delivery of the first V-bombers, the Valiants. They succeeded the Canberra, a medium-range light bomber that could lift only a limited payload; it could not, for instance, carry the new ‘heavy’ atom bomb. It was used mainly at night and in bad weather for tactical attacks against airfields and communications. The Valiant, considered to be ‘the equivalent of about 212 Canberras’, was the first British bomber designed to carry nuclear weapons. But even the Valiant could not compete with the payloads and range of the American B29s and their successors.22 On both sides of the Atlantic, the heads of the various branches of the armed services vied for a larger share of the dwindling resources that the new nuclear strategy envisaged. Both countries allotted the lion’s share of their defence budget to the air force, which would be delivering the new weapons to their targets. Inevitably, the army and the navy each claimed that it should play the dominant role in the country’s defence. In Washington, the army led the opposition to the air force’s pre-eminent role, and its receiving the lion’s share of the budget. In London, the army, and especially the Navy argued for a continuing need for substantial conventional forces to fight a protracted war. In both capitals, the Defence Minister gave his political support to the air force, if only for reasons of economy. The new weapons offered hope of some redress to the superiority in conventional ground forces that the Soviets would always enjoy. However, it was feared that the introduction of these weapons on the battlefield would precipitate a rapid escalation to a general, all-out thermonuclear war. It is of particular relevance to note that the British Chiefs argued that this would not be inevitable in theatres outside of Europe – that is, in the Middle East.23 In December 1954, NATO also switched to a strategy of dependence on nuclear weapons. The new strategy, MC 48, was not unlike the American ‘New Look’. It too relied on nuclear weapons and a strategic reserve of combat-ready forces. MC 48 was steered through NATO by the influential Supreme Allied Commander, Europe (SACEUR), an American general. It was based on the belief that: Even forces of a limited size, if geared to a nuclear battlefield, armed with nuclear weapons . . . could make sure that NATO Europe was not overrun during the relatively brief period when the basic sources of Soviet power were being destroyed through the strategic air offensive.24 NATO’s readiness to accept the American nuclear-based strategy was due in no small part to their anxieties that the US might adopt a ‘peripheral strategy’ that 8


would neglect European interests. The deployment of nuclear weapons at NATO bases would, it was thought, guarantee a permanent American military presence in Europe. On the American side, the introduction of nuclear weapons into Europe enabled Eisenhower to reconcile himself to the Soviets’ conventional superiority.25 However, NATO did not concurrently reduce the conventional-force goals that it had set itself for the defence of Europe. The rationale behind this was to create a deterrent shield strong enough ‘to raise the stakes to the point where the enemy attack, to have any chance of success, would have to be on such a scale as to lead virtually automatically to a general war’.26 The force goals laid down by MC 48 were in fact much higher than those set in Lisbon in 1952, and just as unobtainable: 58 –23 ground divisions, 8,810 aircraft and 1,197 naval craft on M-day (mobilization day); with a full mobilization of 126 ground divisions, 8,810 aircraft and 2,724 naval vessels. SACEUR reported at the end of 1954 that over one-third of the M-day ground divisions, and over half the air forces were not yet combat-ready. These deficiencies increased in 1956, when the French re-deployed some of their divisions from NATO’s central sector to Algeria, where the indigenous national resistance posed an increasingly serious threat to the French colonial regime.27 The launching of the Soviet Sputnik in 1957 disturbed the world’s strategic balance. Once the entire Western hemisphere came under the potential threat of Soviet ICBMs carrying megaton thermonuclear warheads, the UK became increasingly doubtful about the reliability of the American nuclear umbrella, and the more determined to develop its own independent nuclear deterrent. On the other hand, the British believed that the Sputnik had also shocked the Americans into the realization that their prior assumptions of their technological superiority had been illusory. In consequence, the British hoped that what they regarged as American condescension would be replaced soon by the conviction that they needed British and Western European support more than they had previously calculated.28 The British independent nuclear deterrent In June 1952, the British, who did not yet possess an atomic bomb, decided on a new strategy of dependence on nuclear, in preference to conventional weapons. In this, they preceded by a year the Americans, who already possessed advanced nuclear technology. The initial catalyst for the British decision was the mutual mistrust that hovered over Anglo-American relations after World War Two. The MacMahon Act, legislated into law by the US Congress in August 1946, had curtailed severely any further collaboration between the Allies on atomic research. The law obliged the Americans to keep all details of their nuclear arsenal secret. The Americans feared that the UK itself was too exposed to Soviet attack, and refused to allow any production or stockpiling of atomic weapons on British soil. The British were only partially assuaged when in February 1950 the US signed an agreement that 9


permitted an ‘unfettered interchange of missile technology’.29 The exposure of ‘atomic spies’ (especially of Klaus Fuchs) inside the British nuclear programme in the early 1950s only heightened American fears about the integrity of British security.30 But in any case, in mid-June 1952, unable to bear the costs of the NATO force goals, the Churchill administration made a virtue of necessity and endorsed the RAF-sponsored strategy of an independent nuclear deterrent.31 Driven by Treasury insistence on cutbacks in military spending, the COS circulated a Global Strategy Paper (GSP), which adumbrated the first ever calculated definition of nuclear deterrence. The new strategic concept posited a short, decisive, strategic air offensive in the next war. The Soviets would be warned that any aggression on their part would ‘involve immediate and crushing retaliation . . . with the atomic weapon’. Little financial provision was made for the requirements of anything beyond the first few intensive weeks of war. Lip service was paid to the concept of a long, ‘broken-backed’ conflict, in order to secure the agreement of the navy, and thereby the unanimity of the Chiefs of Staff.32 The cabinet’s decision of June 1952 provoked internal dissension, some of it, ironically, from within the RAF itself. Presumably, the RAF would have preferred to spend the money on the development of a larger V-bomber force.33 Air Chief Marshal Sir John Slessor, Chief of the Air Staff from 1950 to 1952, complained that it was a tragic waste of British resources to develop an independent British nuclear device. At the end of 1951, Slessor referred to the anomalies which American atomic ‘isolationism’ was creating: I have always thought that it makes very little sense that we should be pressing on, at great expense, with the development of a weapon that is still more than a year away from completion and trial, while the Americans have already a large stockpile of much more advanced weapons. However, the whole issue between us and the Americans is bedevilled by the MacMahon Act and the repercussions of Fuchs etc....the Chiefs of Staff have reluctantly accepted that we have no alternative but to go ahead.34 In July 1952, Slessor travelled to Washington to present the new GSP to the Joint Chiefs of Staff (JCS). His main argument was that the Lisbon force goals had only increased the risk of a major war in Europe. He tried to convince the Americans that the Lisbon force goals were ‘an economic impossibility, a logistic nightmare and a strategic nonsense’. But he was rebuffed by the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs, General of the Army, Omar N. Bradley, who argued that Allied bombing in World War Two had not brought Germany to its knees, and that the GSP’s emphasis on nuclear weapons would not be relevant until 1956. Bradley accused Slessor of exaggerating the deterrent power of SAC, and insisted that greater conventional preparations would have to be made in the meantime.35 The Americans’ lack of trust in the British was reciprocated in full. General Bradley’s attitude served only to reinforce the British conviction that their opinion 10


would carry little if any weight with the US until the UK possessed its own independent nuclear assets, and the means of delivering them. The UK felt unable to rely on the US nuclear umbrella in all future circumstances. British strategists took it for granted that their ally’s first priority would be to counter any threats to her own interests. The US was assumed to possess sufficient nuclear weapons to cover targets that threatened the UK, but UK planners could not be certain that the SAC would go for these targets with her first salvo, since the US kept its targeting priorities secret until the late 1950s.36 The British chiefs argued further that unless they had their own nuclearequipped bomber force the Americans would not even bother to consult them in the event of a general war. Without their own nuclear weapons, the defence of the UK and of its interests around the globe would be left in American hands. The UK’s planners feared that once New York became vulnerable to Soviet nuclear retaliation, the US would not be so eager to use her strategic weapons in the defence of London. The chiefs hoped that the independent British nuclear option would ensure that any nuclear conflagration would not be limited to the European continent, and would therefore ‘help to preserve the American nuclear guarantee to Western Europe once the USA became vulnerable to nuclear attack’. Conversely, the planners also hoped that an independent British nuclear deterrent would constrain the Americans from making ‘rash nuclear decisions’.37 The British decision derived also from considerations of international prestige. It became axiomatic for British leaders, both civilian and military, that if the UK did not possess its own independent nuclear deterrent it would have to forego its status as ‘a first-class power’. Slessor claimed that ‘Without the bomber Britain would be a “3rd class” power comparable with France or even Turkey and unable to influence the USA.’ In order to retain Great Power status, the UK would have to join the exclusive nuclear club, of which there were currently but two members – the US and the Soviet Union.38 But perhaps the major single factor behind the decision of the British government to persist with an independent nuclear detrrent was its sense that Britain was uniquely vulnerable to a Soviet atomic attack. England itself was densely-populated, with closely concentrated centres of industry. British planners estimated that some 42 percent of the island’s population ‘lived in cities of over 100,000 inhabitants’. This compared with 31 percent for the US and just 14 percent for the Soviet Union. The UK was also much closer geographically to hostile air bases on the Continent than the United States. Once the Soviets began to produce large numbers of nuclear weapons and the aircraft with which to deliver them, British planners switched to a strategy of counter-military targeting, against those Soviet air bases from which atomic attacks might be expected to be launched. The number of these bases was daunting. In 1954, the Swinton report warned that the Soviet Long-Range Air Force (SLRAF) occupied 40 permanent air bases, and had the use of 150 others in European Russia and the Satellites.39 However, the UK still had a critical need for American protection, especially during the early 1950s, when the Britain were threatened with nuclear destruction 11


while the continental US still remained out of range of Soviet delivery systems. British planners were concerned above all to secure two requirements from their American ally; first, joint coordination of their nuclear targeting plans; and second, access to the American burgeoning stockpile of nuclear and thermonuclear weapons. Given that the US kept its targeting plans a secret from its ally, British anxieties were hardly surprising. Given the differences between their respective geographical positions and the UK’s vulnerability, targeting priorities were considered by the UK to be literally a matter of life and death. The fact that the Americans refused to divulge their nuclear targeting strategy imposed severe strains on British strategic planning. By 1953, British strategists were confident that the US had sufficient nuclear weapons to cover the majority of those Soviet bases that constituted ‘a strategic threat to Europe’. But they feared that the United States Air Force (USAF) would not be able to attack all the targets they wanted to on their all-important first sorties, and that they would have to allot first priority to targets that threatened American interests. In that case, the British could not be certain that those bases which posed the most danger to the UK would be sufficiently high up on American targeting priorities.40 Indeed, Prime Minister Churchill (returned to office in October 1951) employed this very argument in order to explain to the British public the need for an independent British deterrent. In March 1955, he told the House of Commons that without an independent nuclear option the UK could not be certain that the Americans would attack within the first few hours of a war those targets that most threatened their islands.41 Churchill made this speech a few weeks after receiving from the commander of the RAF the following argument in favour of building up a British bomber force of 240 front-line bombers (which would require a total bomber force of 364). Air Chief Marshal Dickson explained to Churchill that the Soviets now possessed some 150 airfields from which they were capable of launching thermonuclear weapons. He argued that the RAF would have to have enough bombers with which to neutralize those airfields within the first few hours of any future war. Unless these Soviet bases could be be put out of action immediately, not only would the UK itself sustain unsupportable damage, but the Red Army would advance into NATO countries, forcing the UK to make atomic attacks on the territories of their allies.42 Churchill tended to over estimate his own importance in American eyes and, consequently, adopted a euphoric vision of the state of Anglo-American nuclear cooperation. During a visit to Washington in January 1952, he was briefed on the American Strategic Air Plan. He was convinced that the West could retain superiority over the Soviet bloc for the foreseeable future, with atomic weapons delivered by air. But the briefing revealed little that the British military did not already know. The main contribution of the meeting was in improving the atmosphere between the Allies.43 The British officers who were present were disappointed with the Americans’ lack of candour about their operational planning, especially their refusal to reveal 12


any details of their nuclear targeting. Sir William Elliot, head of the British Joint Staff Mission (BJSM) in Washington, argued to Secretary of Defense Robert Lovett the case for the UK’s need to know more details, on the grounds that the very success of Allied plans would depend upon the facilities that the British were supposed to provide, ‘and would be asked in greater measure to provide’. Lovett readily conceded that Churchill had been given only ‘a necessarily elementary and expurgated version of the Plan’, since the MacMahon Act, watched over draconically by the powerful Congressional Atomic Committee, did not allow them to do otherwise.44 Elliott pressed the Americans for further details about the size and strength of the American air forces that would be committed to tactical and strategic attacks, including estimates of the number of effective operational sorties that USAF would be able to mount each month, and of the anticipated bombing errors against various targets. He also wrote to General Hoyt Vanderberg, Chief of Staff, USAF, insisting that the information requested by the UK about American air plans and capabilities could not ‘by any stretch of the imagination, be held to contravene the MacMahon Act’. As the Americans’ ally, the RAF’s Bomber Command would play a key role in the Allied strategic air attack, and the UK itself would inevitably become a prime target of the Soviet strategic air force. In the event of war, the British government would have to know what threats they could expect to be faced with, and for how long they would be expected to last. Therefore, the British asked for an advance agreement on the list of Allied targets, in order to determine the targets to be hit by the RAF’s Bomber Command, and to ensure that targets threatening the UK would be adequately dealt with (the targets included ‘Russian Medium Bomber Airfields . . . the Russian Tactical Air Force . . . [and] Russian Land Forces’).45 The British may have had military logic on their side, but American reticence, which originated with the highest political echelons, would prevent full Allied operational collaboration until the late1950s. In March 1954, the US granted the UK some $210 million in military aid, but at the same time rejected all British requests to discuss ‘joint strategic nuclear targeting or the establishment of formal links between SAC and Bomber Command’. It was not until the autumn of 1956, after the British V-bombers had demonstrated their operational ability at Suez, that the Americans agreed to begin joint planning. Air Chief Marshal Sir Dermot Boyle, Chief of the British Air Staff from 1956 to 1958, affirmed retrospectively in 1958 that the Americans had not revealed SAC’s targeting plans before 1956. It took them until 1958 to pass on ‘authoritative information and guarantees on American nuclear targeting’.46 The second issue on which the British pressed the Americans was that of securing access to their stockpile of nuclear and thermonuclear weapons. The development of the UK’s V-Bomber force was about to outstrip its own arsenal of atomic bombs, while a British thermonuclear bomb was still some years down the road. Therefore, the British sought an American commitment to transfer to the RAF American nuclear and thermonuclear bombs in the event of war, during the period 13


when the British were still building up their own stocks. On a visit to the White House in June 1954, Lord De L’Isle and Dudley, the British Secretary of State for Air, argued: ‘It did not make sense for Britain to build up costly bombers to carry ordinary high explosive bombs, whilst the American Air Force alongside them would be carrying bombs many thousands of times more powerful.’47 The British Minister apparently secured a promise from President Eisenhower that ‘in the event of war or the threat of war’, the US would allocate to the UK a certain number of atomic weapons. To this end, a team of USAF officers from the Pentagon and Special Weapons Centre spent two weeks at British Air Force bases in December 1954, studying British bombers and fighters, in order to determine which American weapons the RAF aircraft would carry and what modifications would be needed. Following this visit, American instructors were sent to the UK to train the British to modify their aircraft. However, when Prime Minister Eden asked President Eisenhower in mid-October 1956 to agree to a public announcement of this nuclear cooperation, in order to demonstrate the ‘continuing solidarity between our two countries’, the latter procrastinated.48 In 1958, the USAF did apparently transfer thermonuclear bombs to the RAF for use with the V-bomber force.49 The British decision to rely on the nuclear deterrent, with its consequent reduction of budgets for conventional forces, provoked fierce debate between the three services, each of which demanded a larger slice of the defence budget. It became axiomatic that the nuclear deterrent would have first call on the British defence budget, with conventional forces to be built up with whatever was left over. The RAF enjoyed a virtual monopoly over the delivery of the UK’s nuclear arsenal. In their view, the possession of nuclear weapons provided the best chance of deterring the Soviets from starting a new general war.50 Since early 1952, forceful Air Chief Marshal Slessor had argued that nuclear weapons, delivered by both SAC and RAF Bomber Command (BC), could provide an effective deterrent to war, especially in Europe. Slessor was a disciple of ex-Air Chief Marshal Sir Hugh Trenchard, who had argued that the ‘RAF could fight wars more effectively and cheaply than the older Services’. Admittedly, British participation in the Korean War had led to an opening of Treasury coffers for rearmament. But this had overstrained the British economy, and the new nuclear strategy now threatened to pare down defence expenditures drastically.51 During the 1950s, the army’s share of the defence budget dropped from a postwar level of 43.4 percent to 27.2 percent, while the navy’s share rose from 16.1 percent to 29 percent; the RAF’s share rose from 15.5 percent to 25.4 percent, and reached a high point of 33.3 percent in 1960/61.52 Whereas the UK’s defence expenditure increased in absolute terms, in fact it declined as a proportion of the GNP: from £740 million (7.1 percent) in 1948, to £1,561 million (6.4 percent) in 1959; in relation to American and Soviet military expenditures, the British figures were 31 percent of America’s and 26 percent of the Soviet’s in 1948; by 1959, it had dropped to a mere 9.5 percent of American’s while remaining at 26 percent of the Soviet’s figures.53 It should be noted that these statistics do not

14


specify the increases during the Korean War, which in turn were cut back by the Sandys Defence White Paper of 1952 (on which, see below). Initially, all the British chiefs agreed on the need for the air force to deliver the British atomic bomb, the country’s ‘ultimate weapon’. But the army and the navy did not reconcile themselves for long to their ever-dwindling budgets. A direct confrontation ensued in 1956, between the Air Force on the one hand and the other two services on the other. The Air Force Planning Staff asserted that even when the Soviets reached nuclear parity with the West, the nuclear deterrent would still remain valid, since the Western Powers would: never be prepared to stand by and watch Western Europe being overrun, and thus be prepared to face ultimate defeat, without using the most effective weapon they have in their armoury . . . by starting a conventional war, or a war restricted to the limited use of nuclear weapons, Russia would be surrendering the trump card in nuclear warfare which she now holds, namely, the initiative.54 On the other hand, the army and the navy argued that once nuclear parity between the Powers was reached, the UK would no longer be able to rely upon the United States to use nuclear weapons in a war unless ‘her own immediate safety was threatened’. Therefore, they reasoned, there would arise the ‘grave danger of Russia seeking to achieve her aim through a war by proxy which might well develop into a war in Europe with conventional weapons’.55 The Navy argued that it too should have a role in delivering the nuclear deterrent, by aircraft launched from aircraft carriers, which had demonstrated their versatility during the Korean war. The COS, fearing that the V-bombers would soon become vulnerable to Soviet surface-to-air missiles, adopted the idea that ‘Carrier-borne low-level strike aircraft, armed with atomic weapons, would be a sensible supplement to the British deterrent.’56 When Harold MacMillan became Prime Minister in January 1957, he determined to pare down the defence budget drastically. The cuts were contained in the new White Paper on Defence published in April 1957, known after the new Minister of Defence, Duncan Sandys. Radical economic retrenchment overseas became the order of the day. The new White Paper declared that the British economy could no longer support current levels of military spending. For the previous five years, the defence budget had absorbed some 10 percent of the UK’s annual gross national product: some 7 percent of the nation’s workforce was currently either occupied in military projects, or supporting them – these included a disproportionate number of qualified scientists and engineers. Some 12 percent of the metal industry’s output, a major component of British exports, was devoted to military products. The White Paper declared, therefore, that the 1956/57 defence estimates would be reduced from £1,600 million to £1,483 million, and yet further to £1,420 million in the following year. Defence spending would be reduced

15


from the current 10 percent to 7 percent of the GNP by 1960. Compulsory National Service would be terminated in that year.57 The CIGS, Sir Gerald Templer (an army man), and the First Sea Lord, Earl Mountbatten, argued doggedly against Sandys’ determination to pare down the UK’s conventional forces, to abolish National Service and to base the defence of the nation entirely upon the nuclear deterrent. Mountbatten reiterated the argument that whereas nuclear weapons might prevent World War Three in Europe, wars outside that theatre would still be fought with conventional weapons, and that even in Europe the use of nuclear weapons now amounted to mutual suicide.58 MacMillan imposed a compromise of sorts on the services. He determined that for the short term, the UK could continue to rely on the American deterrent. Until the US developed an operational intercontinental missile (at the end of the decade), it would continue to require the air bases leased in England. Thus, on the one hand, he imposed reductions on the RAF’s bomber fleet; but on the other, he approved the continued development of the UK’s independent nuclear deterrent. His government hoped that the UK’s nuclear posture would compensate for its decline as a conventional military power.59 In no theatre would this be more apparent than in the Middle East. However, no matter which service delivered it, the UK’s nuclear deterrent was not expected to become operational before 1955 to 1956 at the earliest. Until that time, the UK would be absolutely dependent upon its Atlantic ally. The first British nuclear-equipped, long-range jet bomber did not become operational until 1955. Some Anglo-American strategic cooperation did develop eventually, but at the Americans’ insistence it was kept top secret. An agreement on joint AngloAmerican control of American strategic bombers deployed at British air bases since 1948 had been reached in October 1951. But the agreement was far from satisfactory from the British point of view. On the one hand, the Americans conceded that the presence of American bases on British soil was an infringement of British sovereignty, and that it was only natural that they should seek British consent before launching any offensive from their territory. But on the other hand, the Americans were not prepared to give any formal commitment that might possibly infringe their own sovereign right to wage war in their own interests. This left the British facing the unenviable possibility that the Americans might launch atomic weapons from their territory before the UK itself had even declared war! However, as both sides appreciated, they were by now too interdependent to split on this issue, and the British were hardly likely to evict their American ally.60 American B-29 strategic bombers had been stationed at British bases since the Berlin crisis of 1948. In the spring of 1952, the Americans also deployed to the UK one wing of F-84 fighter bombers and another wing of B-45 light bombers. Both had been modified for carrying ‘relatively small, low-yield atomic bombs’. By October 1953, there were a total of 42 USAF installations in the UK, of which 15 were SAC bases. All in all, American air forces stationed on British soil were the equivalent to some 50 percent of the RAF’s total front-line strength.61 16


It should be stressed that the strategic roles of the RAF and SAC differed in substance: the RAF’s role was counter military, to destroy Soviet nuclear air bases, and thereby limit damage to the UK; that of SAC was to provide the deterrent against a Soviet attack. The British ‘payment in kind’ for the US nuclear deterrent was the provision of strategic air bases in the UK and the Middle East.62 In 1956, the Suez crisis provoked a grave, open rift in the Atlantic alliance. But this did not lead to any hiatus in nuclear cooperation. On the contrary, as noted already, in December of that year, with Eden still in office, the Americans conveyed to London their secret agreement to coordinate nuclear targeting with the British, and to send American nuclear weapons to the UK in the event of general war.63 A July 1958 agreement for ‘Co-operation on the Use of Atomic Energy for Mutual Defence Purposes’ afforded the UK access to American nuclear warheads (albeit to remain under full US control), ballistic missiles (to be fired under a dual key system), Atlas rocket engines for the British Blue Streak missile, and inertial guidance systems. A ‘special nuclear relationship’ was established.64 The American ‘New Look’ strategy The inter-services strife between the Joint Chiefs of Staff in Washington exceeded that taking place between the British chiefs. Both the State and Defense departments did their utmost to keep these dissensions from the public eye, not always successfully.65 Eisenhower regarded the inter-services’ rivalry as his ‘most frustrating domestic problem’. He believed that the Joint Chiefs gave no consideration to the ability of the nation’s economy to bear the huge costs that their proposals would have incurred, and confided to a friend: The kindest interpretation that can be put on some of these developments is that each Service is so utterly confident that it alone can assure the nation’s security, that it feels justified in going before the Congress or the public and urging fantastic programs.66 When Eisenhower succeeded Harry S. Truman at the White House in January 1953, he took immediate steps to take direct control of ‘the strategy-making process’. As the terms of his Joint Chiefs were about to expire, he decided to replace all three. He regarded many of his generals as conservative, who ‘did not take adequate account of the effect that nuclearisation was bound to have on the nature of ground warfare’. In their place, he appointed men who ‘placed much greater reliance on nuclear, and especially on strategic nuclear weapons’, in particular, Admiral Arthur W. Radford, the new chairman of the JCS, and Air Force General Nathan Twining.67 Twining served as Chief of Staff, USAF from 1955 to 1957, and was then appointed Chairman of the Joint Chiefs. Radford shared the president’s own strategic concept of nuclear power. In a private letter to a friend, Eisenhower referred to him as: ‘the one man who sees 17


this clearly is a Navy man who at one time was an uncompromising exponent of Naval power and its superiority over any other kind of strength’.68 Radford now shared Eisenhower’s belief that American forces were committed to too many overseas theatres, and that some of them should be returned home to form a strategic reserve (to allow ‘the application of force selectively and flexibly’). This would leave those nations ‘along the periphery of the communist world...[to] provide the first line of defense’.69 The army never reconciled itself to the new administration’s switch to a nuclear-centred strategy, with its corollary of a significant depletion of conventional ground forces. For its part, the air force dismissed the army’s objections with the taunt that it was only trying to obtain a larger slice of the defence budget for its own service.70 Several of Eisenhower’s generals, including his own appointees, claimed later that his Administration had tried to impose its own ideological doctrine upon them. One of them, General Maxwell D. Taylor, Eisenhower’s Army Chief of Staff from 1955 to 1959, asserted later that ‘the mass exodus of the Joint Chiefs of Staff . . . suggested that . . . [they] belonged to the Administration in power and were expected to be the spokesmen for its military policy.’71 Eisenhower replaced his first appointment as Chief of Staff, US Army, General Mathew Ridgway, after a single two-year term. Ridgway published an article in the Saturday Evening Post just six months after leaving office. In it he claimed that he had been ‘subjected to frequent pressure to conform to a preconceived politico-military party line and it was made clear to him that he was not to allow his non-concurrence to be known to the public’. Ridgway’s replacement, General Maxwell Taylor, claimed later that he had been screened prior to his appointment by both the Secretary of Defense Wilson and the president himself, and had been asked about his readiness to carry out civilian orders even when contrary to his own military views.72 Of course, it is the President’s constitutional prerogative and duty to decide on the nation’s defence policy. But the very fact that Eisenhower felt it necessary to reassure himself that his generals were prepared to obey his orders, is surely an indication of the dissonance between his own strategic thinking, and theirs. Both Ridgway and Taylor rushed to press with their memoirs within a year of leaving the service, deprecating the administration’s strategic concept, claiming that political considerations had influenced its decisions. General Taylor offered his own perceptive, even if subjective analysis of the background to Eisenhower’s strategic departure. In his opinion, the ‘lessons’ drawn by the President from the Korean War had been the major factor. In his election campaign, Eisenhower had promised to secure a quick peace in Korea, an end to a war of which the American public had grown weary. This promise had played a major role in his election victory.73 The conduct and results of the Korean War provoked serious dissension and recriminations in Washington. Indeed, the new administration, the air force and the new chairman of the Joint Chiefs, all believed that the protracted ground war in Korea had been a mistake. They all resolved never again to become involved 18


in such a conflict. General Twining later blamed the army for having involved the US in Vietnam.74 The Army retorted that the Truman administration had ‘skeletonised’ the army’s ground forces to a state of impotence in the Far East; and that the decision not to use the atomic bomb in Korea, even though at that time the US had still enjoyed a nuclear (operational) monopoly, had demonstrated the continuing need for substantial infantry and armour. Finally, the army asserted that the new B-36 heavy bomber, which had proved vulnerable in Korea, had failed in its mission there.75 Having failed to appropriate for itself anything like the budget allotted to SAC, the army tried to arrogate to itself a battlefield nuclear role. Tactical atomic artillery shells had been coming on-line since the Sandstone tests of 1948, and the VISTA project, begun in the autumn of 1951. (It should be noted also, that by early 1952, USAF too was beginning to receive ‘tactical’ nuclear weapons, compact enough to be dropped from F84 aircraft, and from some of the aircraft operating from the decks of aircraft carriers.) In October 1953, the first atomic artillery pieces, for operational use with NATO ground units, began to arrive in Europe. The army was able to claim for itself ‘a tactical nuclear role’ in that theatre.76 As in the UK, so in the US, the Korean War acted as a catalyst to rearmament. The American defence budget soared from 4.7 percent of the GNP in 1949, to 17.8 percent in 1952/53. NATO defence spending went up by similar proportions. By May 1952, the ‘monthly deliveries of military end items’ had risen to an annual rate of $17.8 billion, compared with $6.4 billion for the previous July.77 SAC was the main beneficiary of the budgetary increases. Between 1950 and 1953, the number of SAC personnel nearly doubled, and its air power increased from some 900 aircraft, of which only 264 were nuclear-capable, to over 1,600, nearly all of which were nuclear-capable. SAC retained its ‘special niche atop the military hierarchy’ for several decades.78 In the final analysis, USAF strategy triumphed due to its ‘operational control’: ‘The Air Force controlled the bombers, the Strategic Air Command effectively controlled targeting, and the older services did not have enough clout to force a radical change in bombing strategy.’79 The need to economise was also a factor behind the new strategy. Like the British, the Eisenhower administration was also attracted to the apparently simple, cheap solution offered by the new weapons: ‘Technical breakthroughs were making it possible to build more powerful weapons with smaller amounts of fissionable material, just as budget constraints were forcing the Pentagon to rely increasingly on its atomic capabilities.’80 The new strategy, soon dubbed the New Look, was formulated in October 1953, in NSC 162/2. The document followed the British GSP, in affirming an increased dependence upon nuclear weapons. But it went further than the British, in its total rejection of a protracted conventional conflict.81 Notwithstanding its aspiration to apply force ‘selectively and flexibly’, the New Look soon attracted universal castigation. Secretary of State Dulles publicized the new strategy in a major speech before the Council of Foreign Relations on 19


12 January 1954. The public’s attention was drawn to the emphasis Dulles laid upon the intention to use nuclear weapons immediately upon the outbreak of any conflict. The new strategy became known popularly as one of ‘massive retaliation’.82 Dulles’ identification with ‘massive retaliation’ has received a ‘mixed press’ from historians. At one extreme Barbara Tuchman has called him ‘a cold war extremist . . . a drum-beater with the instincts of a bully, deliberately combative because that was the way he believed foreign relations should be conducted’.83 On the other hand, more recent works have referred to ‘the gap between the public and the private Dulles’, and his ‘ultimately human nature’.84 But such nuances were of little consequence at the time, and Dulles failed to achieve any substantive thaw in the confrontational pattern with the Soviets that marked his tenure as Secretary of State.85 The salient point is that his policies attracted considerable contemporary criticism, not to mention alarm, on both sides of the Atlantic. Critics in the Congress warned that the ‘the proposed reduction of the Army and Navy would make it difficult, if a crisis arose, to take any effective military action short of all-out nuclear bombing’. The Congress warned that the New Look would ‘turn every conflict into a nuclear holocaust, frighten the nation’s allies and jeopardize America’s moral standing’.86 A recent study has commented on the dilemmas that the New Look posed for American’s NATO allies: There was a basic tension between convincing Moscow that aggression might well lead to the intervention of massive strategic air power, and the reassurance of European Powers that the United States was not a reckless gambler with the fates of nations in the nuclear age.87 In London, the British Chiefs believed that the strategy of ‘massive retaliation’ was anachronistic, that it really meant ‘massive preemption’.88 They warned that with recent Soviet advances in nuclear technology, the Allies were already entering a phase when war with them would mean ‘committing mutual suicide’. The British were not yet prepared to consider the use of atomic weapons ‘in cases of minor local aggression’.89 There is no little irony in Dulles’s later (1958) derision of ‘the British folly in decreasing their conventional forces in the various areas in which their world position depends in order to create a nuclear force of small size at tremendous expense’.90 The official term soon adopted for a thermonuclear war was ‘mutually assured destruction’, the acronym for which, most appropriately, was MAD. In a characteristic aside, John Gaddis has pointed out ‘the possibility that an absolute weapon would be absolutely useless was as yet far too revolutionary to comprehend’.91 In any case, events across the globe soon vitiated the initial goals of the New Look strategy. Early in 1954 the Indochina crisis forced the Americans to suspend all further troop withdrawals from the Far East, upon which the establishment of the strategic reserve at home had been contingent. Faced with the costs involved, 20


the administration was forced to postpone indefinitely the creation of the strategic reserve that was such an integral component of the new strategy.92 At the same time, Military Intelligence warned that the Soviets’ long-range delivery potential was increasing exponentially. By 1955, they would dispose of ‘at least 300, but possibly as many as 600 [atomic] bombs’; that between 65 and 85 percent of the atomic bombs launched by the Soviets in an attack against the US homeland would reach their targets. Civil defence measures would be only 10 to 15 percent effective and American casualties from a Soviet attack would be in the millions.93 At the beginning of 1958, the British Joint Intelligence Committee (JIC) warned that Soviet missile development was advancing rapidly. Their latest missiles had a 650-nautical-mile range, and by 1961 they were expected to have developed ballistic missiles with a range of 1,000 to 1,600 nautical miles; by 1962, they were expected to acquire intercontinental ballistic missiles with a range of at least 3,500 nautical miles.94 By the mid-1950s, the US military grew increasingly concerned that the continental USA would soon become vulnerable to a Soviet atomic attack. The Soviets were not expected to initiate a general war during the next few years, due to the fear of the great nuclear damage their own homeland would suffer. But the JCS realized that the West would be unable to retain its nuclear advantage for long, and pressed for a preventive war against the Soviet Union. During the course of 1954, the Joint Chiefs warned repeatedly that once a ‘condition of mutual deterrence’ inhibited both sides from initiating a general war, the Soviets might try ‘to pursue their ultimate objective of world domination through a succession of local aggressions’. They believed that the continental US would be relatively secure until the early 1960s, by which time the Soviets were expected to have their own intercontinental missiles operational. Until that time, ‘the US would still be capable of inflicting equal or greater damage on the Soviet Union in a nuclear exchange’.95 Eisenhower vetoed the JCS recommendation that the US should take advantage of its current nuclear advantage to initiate a preventive nuclear war (although the use of nuclear weapons was apparently discussed by the Joint Chiefs during the Korean war).96 His veto was determined by one decisive factor – the inconceivable problems of rebuilding a world devastated by nuclear and thermonuclear weapons. In one pregnant aside, he commented: ‘the only thing worse than losing a global war would be winning one’. Instead, he determined to build up American nuclear forces to a magnitude sufficient to deter a Soviet attack. These forces would be ready, immediately, ‘to inflict greater loss upon the enemy than he could reasonably hope to inflict upon us’.97 On the issue of the ‘preventive war stratgy’, Dulles was apparently more of a dove than his president. He feared that as the contintental US became more vulerable to a Soviet nuclear attack, its European allies would become ever more anxious that in the event of such an attack, the US would chose to remain on the sidelines. A corollary of this fear was American anxiety that if the US were attacked, Europe might elect to remain neutral. Dulles feared that these trends 21


would bring about an unravelling of NATO and an increasing isolation of the US. The result would be that America would no longer be able to draw upon the resources of the free world. In a memorandum addressed to the President in September 1953, Dulles concluded that the only possible resolution of this dilemma was ‘détente with the Soviet Union’. In a characteristically moralistic tone, Dulles warned: ‘no man should arrogate to himself the power to decide that the future of mankind would benefit by an action entailing the killing of tens of millions of people’.98 Recent research has shown that the Americans retained their strategic advantage over the Soviets throughout the Eisenhower administration, until 1963. At the time, American Intelligence analysts were puzzled by the Soviets’ failure to build a more effective nuclear force, or to take even the most basic precautions against a surprise attack. However, the salient point is that during the 1950s, no analyst could have predicted that American nuclear superiority would last so long.99 The nuclear world remained a dangerous environment, in which the Allies could never free themselves of the apprehension that a general war might occur as the result of either ‘miscalculation or a major technological breakthrough’ by the Soviets.100 In this context, the launching of the Sputnik rocket in 1957 was perhaps even more of an unpleasant strategic surprise to the West than the explosion of the Soviets’ first atomic device less than ten years before. Therefore, planning for the contingency of a nuclear war continued apace. On 30 March 1955, the Joint Chiefs’ Joint Strategic Plans Committee (JSPC) approved a plan which reaffirmed that ‘the Soviet Union would not precipitate general war because of the nuclear damage it would suffer as a result.’ However, in the unlikely event that a general war did occur, the JSPC foresaw that it would be fought in two phases. The first, ‘a comparatively short initial phase consisting of an intensive exchange of nuclear blows and the beginning of air, sea and ground operations and deployments designed to achieve strategic advantage’; and a second, ‘of indeterminate length consisting of follow-up operations to achieve victory’. The plan proposed that the allies should hold on to the UK and parts of southern Europe – ‘Spain, Italy, parts of Greece, Yugoslavia and Turkey’ – and in the Middle East, to ‘the Suez-Aden-Cairo area.’101 Relations between the Americans and their NATO Allies remained ambivalent. As the American commitment to a European military presence became firm, they feared that the NATO countries would take their presence for granted, and feel ‘freer to take on a much more independent line’. Dulles and Eisenhower believed that the more absolute the American commitment to their NATO allies, especially after the deployment of American nuclear weapons on European soil, the less leverage they would have over their allies, and the less would the Europeans feel obliged to ‘make the sacrifices to provide the soldiers for their own defense’.102 By the late 1950s, senior American officials concluded that the only solution to this ambivalence would be for the Europeans to get their own nuclear deterrent.103 Before turning to the Middle East in the next chapter, it is pertinent to make two final points here. First, during the period dealt with in this book, the threat of 22


general war was perceived to have receded (even if it had not totally dissipated). The Allies were concerned, therefore, as much with their Cold War as with their ‘Hot War’ goals in the Middle East. The redefinition of the Eisenhower administration’s policy in the Middle East, NSC 5428, written in July 1954, asserted that the danger to American security interests in the region was ‘less from the possibility of direct Soviet attack than from increasing Soviet peaceful penetration, combined with rising Arab nationalism and declining Western influence in the Arab countries’.104 The Atlantic Allies were concerned primarily to convince and reassure their prospective clients/allies in the region that it was worth their while to remain in the Western camp, and that in the event of a general conflict the West would be able to protect them against Soviet aggression. With the decline of British power in the region, and the US’s consistent refusal to deploy her own forces there, the nuclear deterrent was supposed to have persuaded those Middle Eastern states willing to ally themselves with the West that the latter were determined, and able to prevent the Soviets from conquering the region. The nuclear guarantee was necessary if only in order to preserve American and British commercial and strategic interests in the region. ‘Political and economic measures’ would be employed in order to ‘persuade the Arab states that the US was in sympathy with their legitimate aspirations’. With regards military measures, NSC 5428 recommended the creation of ‘a collective defense system in the Middle East, involving Iran, Iraq, Turkey and Pakistan’, and the drafting of contingency plans that would ‘deter or terminate any large-scale hostilities between Israel and her Arab neighbors’.105 In this context, the second point to be made is that the Americans believed that all other interests in the Middle East, including existing treaties (mainly British) – whether commercial or military – should be subordinated to the primary goal of ensuring that the Arabs remained strategically aligned to the West. In the early 1950s, the Americans had pressed the British to compromise and reach a quick agreement with the Egyptians on the Suez Canal base. When Eden finally went to war against Egypt in November 1956, Eisenhower concluded that the British Prime Minister had lost sight of their common strategic perspectives – not only in the Middle East but in Europe too. As a result, the Atlantic Alliance suffered its worst, even if short-lived, crisis.

23

2 BRITISH ASSETS IN THE MIDDLE EAST

Government remains the paramount area of folly, because it is there that men seek power over others – only to lose it over themselves. (Barabara Tuchman)1

The Suez Canal base During World War One, the UK had defended Egypt from the banks of the Suez Canal; during World War Two, from the Western Desert. After World War Two, once the Labour government relinquished the Indian Empire, the Suez Canal became obsolete as an imperial highway to India and the Far East. However, the canal continued to serve as a valuable conduit for transporting Persian Gulf oil to Europe, and the Korean War demonstrated the canal’s strategic and logistical utility in wartime, as a short cut to the Far East.2 But it was the military base in Egypt that now assumed paramount significance in British strategic thinking. The base was to fulfil a novel role in a possible future world conflict, this time against the Soviet Union. The Middle East was regarded by both the Western allies as the all-important right flank of NATO, and a platform from which to launch, or at least to serve as a staging post, for part of the strategic air offensive against the Soviets. Until 1954, Western contingency planning provided that part of the Allied strategic air offensive would be launched (by American heavy bombers) from British air bases in Egypt. It was expected that the primary goal of the Soviets in any general conflict would be the conquest of Western Europe. But at the same time, they were also expected to mount a simultaneous, secondary offensive against the Middle East, in order both to take over its oil fields and to conquer the British base in Egypt. In order to hold up the Soviet advance on Egypt, and thus buy more time for the air offensive, British forces would have to advance north and eastwards from their canal bases, in order to meet and hold up the Soviet advance as far forward as possible.3 The consequences of a Soviet conquest of the Middle East were far-reaching; it would have afforded them not only the facilities of the largest military base in the world, but in addition, as the Joint Planners warned, ‘with direct access to 24

BRITISH ASSETS IN THE MIDDLE EAST

Africa, possession of the Suez Canal and a means of encircling Turkey’, the Soviets would be able to turn the right flank of NATO.4 However, by the early 1950s, British strategic thinking on Egypt had undergone a sea change. Due to a combination of factors – economic stringency at home, the advent of nuclear weapons, and Egyptian national resistance – the planners had by 1952 resigned themselves to the evacuation of the Egyptian Base. In so doing, they preceded the decision of Prime Minister Churchill by nearly two years. In 1954, the planners determined that the Suez Canal was no longer vital to the maintenance of imperial communications to the Far East; nor indeed, to the initial implementation of their Middle Eastern strategy. Henceforth, in any future global conflict, Allied forces would attempt to engage and hold the Soviet aggressor well to the north and east of the Middle East, at the ‘Northern Tier’ (see Map 2, p. 43) and in order to prevent it from reaching the approaches to the Suez Canal. Perhaps the single most significant factor in this change of mind was the advent of the hydrogen bomb which, according to the commander of the RAF, had transformed the problem of the defence of the Middle East.5 There were two aspects to the revolution in Middle East planning brought about by the new weapon. The first was that a single bomb could now eliminate an entire army base or garrison (even if, as pointed out by the Vice-Chief of the Imperial General Staff (VCIGS), Lieutenant General Sir Neville Brownjohn, the wide dispersal of the military installations across the Suez peninsula actually enhanced the value of the Egyptian Base). The second aspect was that the Allies’ own strategic air forces, soon to be equipped with ‘the immensely increased power of the H-bomb’ and their artllery, soon to be equipped with nuclear-tipped shells, would be able to disrupt severely the Soviets’ inevitably long lines of communication. Soviet forces moving against Turkey and the Middle East would be especially vulnerable in the Caucasus and at the narrow passes that gave access via the Zagros mountains to Iran and north-eastern Iraq. If the Soviet advance could thus be held up, then the allies would be able to station a smaller garrison in the Middle East in peace time, and to contemplate a longer period for the re-activation of the Suez base.6 By 1954, Churchill himself was persuaded of the futility of trying to hold on to the Suez Base where – as Harold MacMillan wrote later – ‘the army was wasting away at the cost of £50 million a year’.7 The military arguments for evacuation had become overwhelming. In addition to the expensive vulnerability of the British position in Egypt, the geo-strategic position in the Middle East had also been transformed over the previous two years. Prospects now looked good for a new defensive line across the Northern Tier, from Turkey, integrated into NATO since September 1951, to Pakistan, now in receipt of American military aid. Churchill resigned himself to the 1954 Agreement to evacuate Egypt, which provided for the re-activation of the Canal Base in the event of war.8 But how to evacuate Egypt without it appearing to the rest of the Arab world as a ‘scuttle’? By the beginning of 1954, the British were hooked on the horns of an apparently insoluble dilemma in Egypt, looking only for a formula good enough to cover their exit. With the decline in their military strength, the preservation of British 25


prestige in the region was a primary desideratum. Any wrong move in Egypt might lead other Arab states to deny to Britain the facilities that she would now require even more. Iraq, where the UK’s treaty rights were about to expire, might follow Egypt’s lead. On the other hand, to over stay their welcome in Egypt for much longer might provoke a renewed outbreak of hostilities, which in turn might require the implementation of ‘Rodeo’, the secret contingency plan for taking over and ruling Egypt by force of arms. The planners themselves realized that Rodeo did not provide any longterm solution, and its implementation would risk antagonizing the rest of the Arab world. This would bring to naught all their plans for redeploying along the Northern Tier. Therefore, notwithstanding all the risks involved, the planners concluded in January 1954 that the government should now accept whatever terms the Egyptians were willing to offer: ‘Provided we are allowed time, any method of withdrawal that is likely to receive positive acceptance by the Egyptians would be preferable’.9 The decision to move British Military Headquarters, Middle East from Egypt to Cyprus had been taken long since, in December 1952.10 In July 1954, the British and Egyptian governments reached agreement (ratified in October) on the evacuation of all British troops from the Canal Zone bases within 20 months, by June 1956. British air and ground forces in Egypt were to be redeployed to bases in Libya (with whom the UK had signed a 20-year, base-rights treaty in 1953), and in Jordan and Iraq, with both of which countries the UK already had treaties.11 However, the UK’s agreement to evacuate Egypt did not reflect any willingness to dispense with that country’s facilities in the event of a war in the Middle East. The agreement was predicated upon the Egyptian agreement to permit British or Allied reoccupation in the event of a general emergency. The agreement provided also that for seven years, British civilian contractors would maintain selected base installations, including British tanks, vehicles and other equipment that would be left in Egypt. The strategic air base at Abu Sueir would be maintained jointly by a British company and the Egyptian Air Force, so that in the event of a general war Abu Sueir would be able to operate as a staging post for the RAF. Finally, the agreement included a clause granting British forces access to all Canal-Base facilities in the event of a war involving either members of the Arab League or Turkey. The signing of the Agreement in October 1954 was followed shortly by an American grant of $40 million in military aid to Egypt.12 The Egyptian base was the only one that had a ‘back door’ – the Suez Canal and the Red Sea – through which supplies and reinforcements could be brought to the Middle East; all other bases in this theatre would be dependent entirely upon the vulnerable Mediterranean sea routes.13 In February 1953, the planners insisted: No Allied campaign in the defence of the Middle East can hope to succeed without an adequate base functioning soon after war starts. It is for that purpose that we propose that the Egypt base be used . . . for nowhere else in the Middle East do facilities exist that meet Allied requirements, and to which access can be obtained even though the Mediterranean and Suez Canal were closed.14 26


The British desire to retain a mortgage on the Egyptian base facilities derived also from very pragmatic, financial calculations. In 1954, the chiefs estimated that it would take anything from three to five years just to build alternative storage facilities to house the military stores and equipment and the reserve stocks needed for fighting a war currently held in Egypt. The costs would run to an estimated £7 million. The construction of an alternative main base in the Middle East in peacetime would have cost an incalculable, ‘prodigious’ amount.15 The planners estimated that in the event of war, it would take at least six months to reactivate the Canal Base effectively.16 Given the universal expectation that a new global conflict would probably be determined during the first week, by a devastating intercontinental exchange of nuclear and thermonuclear weapons,17 planning for military operations in the seventh month of war reflected not only conflicting strategies among the Chiefs of Staff (COS), but also the proclivity of some officers for fighting the last war, rather than the next one. During the winter of 1954/55, following the signing of the evacuation agreement, the British hoped for an improvement of relations with the officers’ regime in Egypt. Indeed, following a visit to Cairo in November 1954, the C-in-C. Mediterranean, Earl Mountbatten, recommended the institution of joint strategic planning between British and Egyptian planners. The idea, discussed by British military staffs in December 1954, was ruled out by the COS, largely due to the perennial problem that it would have meant revealing to the Egyptians the hollowness of British plans for defending the Middle East, and the inadequacies of the forces that they would be able to deploy to this theatre; they also feared that joint planning with the Egyptians might alienate the Iraqis and their ubiquitous, amenable Prime Minister, Nuri Said (he had been a central figure in Iraqi politics since World War One).18

Jordan Jordan was an artificial creation, whose sole raison d’être was – as so many Arab and British leaders believed – to serve British interests in the Middle East.19 If any of the UK’s Middle Eastern possessions ever resembled a feudal, colonial fief, then it was Jordan. The British attitude is reflected well in a speech by exColonial Secretary Winston Churchill, who in March 1936 told the House of Commons: ‘The Emir Abdullah is in Transjordania, where I put him one Sunday afternoon at Jerusalem [in 1921].’20 In 1949, the British had recognized the Emir Abdullah as king. His desert emirate, including the annexed West Bank of Palestine, was renamed the Hashemite Kingdom of Jordan. The UK signed a defence treaty with the new kingdom, which obliged it to come to the Hashemite Kingdom of Jordan’s aid in the event of any external aggression. A Joint Anglo-Jordanian Defence Board was established in order to coordinate military planning. The influx of Palestinian refugees into Jordan proper, consequent to Jordan’s annexation of the West Bank, had destablized the country. Some 850,000 27


Palestinians, 450,000 of whom were refugees, now lived in Jordan, one-third of them in ‘temporary’ camps. The Palestinians resented Jordan’s Bedouin hierarchy, the preference given by the regime to the East Bank over the West Bank, and their exclusion from the upper levels of Jordanian society and government.21 Following the UK’s evacuation of Palestine in 1948, and her agreement to evacuate the Suez Canal Zone base in 1954, some Whitehall officials came to regard Jordan as the hub of what was left of the British position in the Middle East. Since its creation in 1921, Transjordan had been financially dependent upon the UK, which by 1954 was providing some £10 million per annum for Jordan’s armed forces, and a further £4 million annually for civilian purposes. Following the 1948 war, Jordan began to receive from the United Nations millions of pounds each year for the relief of those Palestinian refugees who had fled from the Jordanianoccupied West Bank to Jordan proper. Without all these subsidies, Jordan would have been unviable as a state.22 With the lease on its strategic airbases in Iraq soon to expire, Jordan was now regarded by some British officials as the nation’s last ‘secure’ dependency in the Middle East. The UK’s major strategic goal in Jordan in the early 1950s became to secure King Hussein’s agreement to the stationing of a British armoured-brigade group in northern Jordan. In the event of a general war this brigade (currently stationed in Libya), could be deployed rapidly to the front in northern Iraq. Once the COS reconciled themselves to the evacuation of Egypt, they came to regard the deployment of the armoured brigade group in a forward position in peacetime as ‘the hard core on which to build up for the defence of the Middle East’. If Jordan’s agreement could be secured, the COS would agree, following the evacuation of Egypt, to risk reducing the Middle East garrison to this single armoured-brigade group, and one infantry-brigade group.23 A window of opportunity was opened up in the summer of 1954. Following tension on the Israeli–Jordanian border, the Jordanian regime pressed the British to increase their garrison in the Ma’an-Akaba region as soon as possible to full brigade strength. However, the current uncertainty in the Middle East and, above all, budget restraints, inhibited the government from seizing this opportunity. In September, following prolonged deliberations at Whitehall, the British informed the Jordanians that they would build up their forces in Jordan to one armoured regiment (one-third of a brigade), provided that adequate accommodation was provided and that the regiment was allowed to move north to the Zerqa area as soon as possible. On 4 November, the Jordanian government communicated to London its agreement to the dispatch of an advanced party.24 In October 1954, the Cabinet’s Defence Committee had given further consideration to increasing the annual subsidy to Jordan. The increase would enable Jordan to expand its National Guard into an effective force capable of guarding the border with Israel. This would permit the British-officered Arab Legion to be deployed further forward, on the north-eastern borders, ready to take up strategically important positions in Iraq. But in order to achieve this, the UK would need first to infuse Jordan with enough confidence about the security of her border 28


with Israel. However, budgetary restraints again compelled the Defence Committee to determine against the allocation of the extra £500,000 requested by Amman. Instead, the committee approved the allocation of an additional £170,000 per annum for two years, to finance the building up of an extra divisional regiment and an armoured corps for the Arab Legion.25 Of course, there was also a significant divergence between Jordanian and British strategic interests. The Jordanians were concerned more with securing British military support against their Israeli neighbour than with volunteering the Arab Legion to fight outside Jordan as part of an Allied task force to withstand a Soviet offensive against the Middle East. Jordan wanted the British troops stationed on its western border with Israel, rather than on its northern and eastern borders with Syria and Iraq. The British delegates to the Joint Anglo-Jordanian Defence Board were authorized to inform the Jordanian officers about the grant of the additional £170,000 per annum for the Arab Legion, and to discuss with them the movement of the British armoured regiment to northern Jordan as soon as possible. But the British side was instructed not to bring up the UK’s additional strategic objectives in Jordan, which were still under consideration in London: these were the pre-stocking in Jordan of supplies for British units that would either be stationed in, or have to transit the country in the event of general war; the holding of joint exercises between the Arab Legion and British forces in Jordan; and British plans for intervention in the event of tension or conflict between Israel and Jordan (on this last point, see chapter 4).26

Iraq By the beginning of 1955, the UK regarded Iraq as its principal strategic asset in the Middle East. Continuing Egyptian coolness, and Iraq’s readiness (unique among the Arab states) for strategic collaboration, and her agreement to allow the UK a continued tenure of the strategic air bases at Habbaniya and Shaiba, dictated the UK’s choice of strategic partner. For the better part of 1954, the British administration debated the best approach to Iraq. The Anglo-Iraqi treaty of 1930, which had granted the UK base rights in that country, was due to expire in October 1957. The need to reach a new military agreement with Iraq had become a sensitive and urgent issue. The 1930 treaty gave either side the right to request a revision, from October 1952. The last attempt to revise the treaty, resulting in the draft Treaty of Portsmouth in January 1948, had collapsed when the Iraqi Parliament had refused to ratify it, when confronted with popular opposition and street riots. So far, the British had not taken any further initiative, fearing that any revision might leave them with even fewer military facilities than they currently enjoyed.27 But in March 1954, the Foreign Office gave the green light to taking the initiative with the Iraqis. Both sides had been waiting on the outcome of the negotiations with the Egyptians on the Canal Base. However, realising that they were not going to secure the permanent use of military facilities at the Canal Base, the British decided 29


to open talks with the Iraqis before any agreement was reached with the Egyptians, in the hope of securing better terms from the former. If they waited until after the agreement with the Egyptians, the Iraqis were likely to refuse to offer them facilities of a kind that the Egyptians had just refused at the Canal Base.28 The Foreign Office now agreed with the COS that talks with the Iraqi military for the revision of the treaty should be started as soon as possible. The British side would try first to convince the Iraqi military of the need for ‘joint defence plans’, and to persuade them that their successful execution would depend upon full Iraqi cooperation, and the grant of essential military facilities in Iraq in peacetime.29 The major challenge was to convince the Iraqis that the West would be able to protect them against a Soviet attack. The British delegates to the military talks were instructed to tell the Iraqis that at the very outset of a general war, part of the Allied strategic offensive would be directed to halting any Soviet offensive against the Middle East at the strategic passes along Iraq’s border with Iran. This would ‘greatly reduce the enemy land offensive against north-east Iraq’. Although the UK’s peacetime garrison in the Middle East might appear to be small, the reinforcements that it planned to dispatch to the Middle East upon the outbreak of war were supposed to be ‘sufficient in relation to the reduced Russian threat’.30 On 2 June 1954, the Cabinet approved the opening of military talks with Iraq on the basis of the new ‘forward’ strategic concept. Iraq was now regarded as strategically important, not only as an integral link in the Northern Tier, but also as the south-eastern flank of NATO. In return for the formal restoration of the Habbaniyah and Shaiba air bases to Iraqi sovereignty, the British hoped to secure rights to station operational units there permanently, to arrange for British technicians to maintain them, and to secure facilities for the pre-stocking of equipment and stores in Iraq. The Cabinet also instructed the ambassador in Baghdad to indicate confidentially to the crown prince of Iraq the importance attached by London to electing the ‘right’ prime minister in the coming elections.31 Whether due to the ambassador’s influence or not, when the elections were held in Iraq in June, Nuri Said was returned to power as Prime Minister (although he formed a new government only in August). Nuri visited London in late June, for medical reasons. He proposed that the ‘Agreement for Friendly Cooperation’ that Iraq had signed with Pakistan in April (see chapter 5), should become the basis for a new regional pact, which the British could join at some later stage. Thus the British decision to open negotiations with Iraq at the military level interfaced with a new initiative by Nuri Said himself. Nuri’s plan inter-meshed with British interests. The new pact he proposed would supersede the Anglo-Iraqi Treaty and provide a cover for renewing the UK’s military concessions in Iraq. Not only that, but it would involve Turkey, a member of NATO, in the defence of the Middle East. However, Nuri’s plan also had its drawbacks. It did not cover the Suez Base and, as the British foresaw presciently, Nuri’s plan might aggravate dissensions within the Arab world, especially between Iraq and Egypt. This might vitiate the dividends that the British were still expecting to reap from the recent agreement to evacuate the Canal Base.32 30


A new round of elections in Iraq in September provided Nuri Said with what has been called variously the ‘unopposed’ or ‘docile’ parliament. With virtually no domestic opposition, Nuri Said proceeded to rule Iraq with the army and the police for the next four years. Nuri’s virtual dictatorship was seen by London as presenting a unique window of opportunity. Without giving too much thought to the long-term stability of the Hashemite regime, British officials regarded Nuri’s domination as a good augur for the preservation of the UK’s strategic objectives in Iraq. As an immediate goodwill gesture, the new prime minister agreed to the redeployment of RAF units from Egypt to Iraq.33 At talks held in September 1954 between Selwyn Loyd (Minister of State at the Foreign Office) and Nuri Said, the latter objected to the purely military talks proposed by the British. Instead, he suggested implementing the plan that he had put to the British three months before – to cancel the current Anglo-Iraqi treaty, and to replace it with a collective defence agreement between Iraq and Britain, to which other Middle East states could become signatories. Nuri himself would conduct the military talks, in January and February 1955.34 Quite independently, Nuri Said was laying the foundations for what would become the Baghdad Pact (see chapters 5 and 6).

Oil During the 1950s, the Allies’ primary economic asset in the Middle East was oil. In mid-1956, the Cabinet determined that the ‘security of the oil on which the United Kingdom so greatly depends’ was the ‘principal object’ of the UK’s Middle East policy. The UK’s total trade with the Middle East accounted for only 5 percent of her exports and under 10 percent of her imports. But Middle Eastern oil provided the fuel upon which British and European industry ran. Between 1946 and 1955, oil consumption in the UK roughly doubled. In October 1955, the Foreign Office estimated that British petroleum consumption would treble over the coming 20 years, and warned that their only source was the Middle East.35 Middle Eastern oil also provided, directly and indirectly, a significant source of income for the British Exchequer. Following the Iranian oil crisis in 1951, oil imports from Iran had declined. They were soon made up by increased imports from Kuwait and Iraq, but above all by Kuwait, which soon outstripped Iraq and Iran combined in the amount of oil it sold to the UK. By 1955, Kuwait alone was estimated to have some 20 percent of the world’s proved oil reserves, and was producing more than 50 percent of the combined totals produced by Saudi Arabia, Iraq and Iran. Kuwaiti oil was also the cheapest in the world to produce. Kuwait invested a considerable proportion of her oil revenues in the City of London.36 The revenues of British oil companies working in the Middle East also increased significantly during the 1950s. The British Treasury took a handsome share of the increased revenues from taxes. At the beginning of 1956, the Cabinet’s Middle East Official Committee noted: ‘Not only is the United Kingdom economy increasingly dependent upon the supply of oil, but the profit 31


from the sale of oil by British companies to third countries is an important item in our balance of payments.’37 However, the purchase of Middle East oil also posed financial problems. The UK’s heavy oil imports created for her an adverse trade balance with the Middle East. Initially, this ‘visible’ deficit was balanced out by her ‘invisible’ earnings from oil – from taxation, banking, shipping and insurance.38 By 1956, the government became concerned that the rapid accummulation of sterling balances by the oil-producing states of the Middle East, and the UK’s trade imbalance with them was becoming a threat to the stability of sterling. The Cabinet’s Middle East Committee warned: The rapid growth of oil revenues in the last few years has provided Iraq, Kuwait, Saudi Arabia and latterly Presia with large sums of sterling and dollars . . . These revenues are now increasing at such a speed that their accumulation will present us with serious problems, unless we can secure a larger share of these markets.39 The Americans too had vital and growing economic and strategic interests in the region. An Economic Intelligence report written for the National Security Council (NSC) in May 1956, asserted that the Middle East contained the bulk of the world’s proved oil reserves, and was the world’s principal oil exporter, second in production only to the United States. Middle East oil accounted in 1956 for almost one-half of the free world’s (excluding American) requirements. Any denial of Middle East oil to the West would initially cause severe economic and social dislocations. For the first year or two, it was estimated, other Western sources (principally the United States) would be able to cover most of the deficiency. However, this would lead to much higher oil prices, which would bring about a considerable drain on Western Europe’s dollar reserves. This would inevitably impose a decline in energy consumption, and thence production, which were currently both growing at a rapid rate. If there was any consolation in all this, it was that the oil-producing Middle Eastern states would find it difficult to impose an oil embargo for long, since their own economies depended almost solely upon oil revenues. Saudi Arabia was especially vulnerable, and without her oil revenues would be faced with economic collapse within about six months.40 The ready availability of relatively cheap Middle East oil was vital also to the economic well-being of the NATO powers in Europe. In April 1956, Secretary Dulles told a group of US Senators that Western Europe was becoming dependent upon Middle East oil, which was replacing coal as a fuel. Dulles confessed that he did not like to discuss this in public as ‘it would give the Arabs too much of a sense of power’. However, he asserted: ‘The loss of Middle Eastern oil to Europe would wipe out the benefits which we had received from the Marshall Plan and NATO.’41 Two months later, Dulles told a meeting of the NSC that one possible way in which to reduce Western Europe’s dependence upon the vulnerable Arab pipelines 32


and upon the Suez Canal might be to build a large number of supertankers. The Chairman of the JCS, Admiral Radford, retorted that this would require an impossibly large number of tankers. Treasury Secretary Humphrey concurred. Dulles commented in resignation that ‘some solution had got to be found for Western Europe’s abject dependence on Arab whims’.42 It would take the prolonged closure of the Suez canal that followed the Suez war in November 1956 to bring the supertanker into its own. Of course, Middle East oil was also an essential strategic fuel in time of war; and during World War Two, had fuelled Allied forces fighting in or near this theatre. However, by the 1950s, the Allies no longer believed that they would be able to use the region’s oil for long during any future hostilities. All contingency plans for a war against the Soviets in the Middle East included secret measures for the demolition of the oil installations in the region, in order to deny them to the enemy.43

The ‘facade’ of British power in the Middle East The British themselves were only too aware that there was an element of bluff in their strategy for the Middle East. They were trying to preserve a fragile facade to cover their virtual military bankruptcy in the region. Certainly no one, neither in the military nor in the civilian branches of the executive, questioned the fact that a gap now existed between the UK’s promises to defend the indigenous peoples of the Middle East and its ability to make good on its word. Such was the extent of the credibility gap that one scholar has even suggested that for virtually all British policy makers (with the exception of Prime Minister Attlee), ‘the image of power [had] become more important than its exercise’, and that the planners even went so far as to ‘invent’ reasons for staying on in the region.44 This hypothesis makes a travesty of the very concrete British (and indeed, American) economic interests in the region, and the harsh dilemmas facing their planners and policy makers. The decline of the UK’s military power in the Middle East had been accompanied by an almost parallel increase in her economic interests in the region. As noted already, the Allies’ primary economic interest in the region was oil. No matter how many, or few divisions or aircraft the Allies intended to deploy to the Middle East, neither country had any intention of ceding their substantial economic and strategic interests in the region voluntarily to the Soviets. Those interests were vital and inter-dependent. The Allies knew that they would be unable to retain their economic interests in the region during the Cold War unless they could persuade its indigenous states that they were determined and able to defend them against a Soviet attack in the event of a general war. As noted in November 1954 by Patrick Dean, the influential Assistant Under Secretary of State, (and chairman of the Joint Intelligence Committee for most of the 1950s): ‘Respect for British power is not only a main source of confidence in the Middle East during the cold war, it is also a guarantor of our important peacetime interests there.’45 The switch in 1954 to a ‘forward strategy’, which would 33


pivot on Iraqi strategic air bases, rather than on the Egyptian Base, provoked a debate within the government on how much of the UK’s true strategic posture (that is, weakness) should be revealed to her Middle Eastern allies. With the progressive withdrawal of British ground forces from the Middle East, the RAF became the service with the principal military interest in Iraq. As such, it was the chief advocate of basing the defence of this theatre on Allied air power. In February 1954, the chief of the air staff (CAS), Air Marshal Sir William Dickson, predicted confidently that Allied nuclear strikes would hold up any substantial Soviet offensive against the Middle East at the strategic passes in the Zagros mountains. Dickson believed that it would be enough to ‘enlighten’ the Iraqis on this issue, and to point out to them that the UK alone had concrete plans to defend them, and that no other nation would.46 In a letter written in February 1954, addressed to all those concerned with strategic planning in the Middle East (including the Foreign Office), J.D. Bush, the secretary of the JPS, questioned some of the central assumptions underlying the new forward strategy: Would they have time enough in the event of war to deploy their reduced forces from Libya and Cyprus to the Levant in order to achieve any of their strategic goals? And if not, as the secretary feared, would they be wise in trying to create the impression that they could? He warned that ‘even if we are not deceiving ourselves...great care is needed in trying to deceive others’. Bush thought that the solution was to make ‘an all-out effort’to mobilize American support and to co-ordinate policies with them in the Middle East. He also recommended that the planners make a study of the new situation that would pertain after the redeployment from Egypt, and of ‘the gap which may well exist between our promises of timely aid to the Middle East States and our ability to implement them, even with facilities’.47 The UK’s ability to dispatch reinforcements to the Middle East war fronts was vitiated radically by the 1954 agreement to withdraw the garrison from Egypt. This meant that the element of bluff in British strategy in the Middle East became more blatant. Any reinforcements for the Middle East in case of a general war would now have to be brought from the UK itself. Initially, the COS decided that one of the two divisions that comprised the garrison in Egypt would be distributed between Libya, Cyprus and Jordan, and the other, together with some independent brigades, would remain at the Canal Zone until the base was wound down. This second division would be phased out gradually and sent back to the UK, to constitute part of the strategic reserve. The planners appreciated that the British position in the Middle East would become particularly acute during the initial 20 months scheduled for the evacuation of Egypt, from October 1954 until June 1956. However, even this plan was amended during the summer of 1954, presumably due to reasons of economy. It was decided to return the ‘distributed’ division and the independent brigades to the UK immediately, leaving but a single division to guard the Canal Base. This meant that during the crucial evacuation period, the UK would be left with no spare troops to deal with any other crises that might arise elsewhere in the Middle East. For example, the UK would in effect be unable to fulfil its obligations under 34


the Tripartite Agreement (with the United States and France) of May 1950, or those it had undertaken in the treaty with Jordan.48 Nor could much assistance be expected from the residual British units stationed in the Mediterranean, or from the Commonwealth. There was something pathetic in the fact that the British feared that their own Middle East garrison would not be substantial enough to persuade the Commonwealth countries to dispatch their own reinforcements to the area. Nonetheless, it was still hoped that South Africa would send to the Middle East theatre one armoured division within D ⫹ 10 months, and nine day fighter/ground attack (DF/GA) air squadrons by D ⫹ 12 months. It was anticipated that Australia and New Zealand would deploy their air and land forces to the Far East during the first stages of a war.49 The planners concluded that short of giving up their Cold War economic and strategic interests in the region, the only option remaining to the Allies lay in convincing the Arabs and the Turks not only that they would use nuclear weapons immediately against a Soviet offensive, but also that the UK’s small peacetime garrison in the Middle East would be reinforced from the UK immediately upon the outbreak of war by a significant part of the strategic reserve. And this, in the full knowledge that the size and arrival time of any reinforcements from the UK would depend firstly upon the degree of disruption to home ports and air bases caused by the Soviet strategic air offensive, and secondly, upon the progress of the war on other fronts, particularly in Europe, which now held priority over the Middle East.50 The issue of to what extent the UK should reveal to her allies the weakness of its strategic posture in the Middle East came to a head in late 1954, following the government’s agreement to conduct strategic planning talks on the Middle East with the Americans and the Turks (on these talks, conducted in January 1955, see chapter 7). Dickson’s assumptions about declaring the UK’s dependence on the nuclear offensive were challenged by the Foreign Office. Patrick Dean doubted whether the RAF’s arguments would reassure the Arabs and the Turks about British strength in the Middle East. He pointed out that the Arabs knew only too well that the greater part of the Allied strategic air offensive would be delivered by the Americans, and that it would be launched against the Soviets in any case, irrespective of whether the Arabs and the Turks cooperated with the West: ‘They might well wonder whether our pretensions in the Middle East were matched by our intentions and strength, or at any rate by that part of our strength which we proposed to devote specifically to their assistance.’51 The Foreign Office concluded that the British side should not disclose to the Iraqis (or to the other members of the Baghdad Pact) any doubts about their ability to send out reinforcements to the Middle East from the UK. It is true that we can argue that the nuclear bombardment of the Soviet Union by Allied strategic air forces will delay and greatly reduce the weight of the enemy attack. But we do not think that this argument alone will suffice to sustain the belief of the Middle Eastern peoples in British 35


military power. They will regard our proposed peacetime garrison in the Middle East as too small to give the effective help for long against a Soviet attack; and if we allow them to know that it will not be substantially reinforced in the early phase of a global war they will suspect that it is our intention to hope for the best from the general effect of the strategic air bombardment and leave them to face the specific local threat, however much reduced, virtually alone.52 Dean feared that the Arabs might conclude that collaboration with the British on defence matters might ‘attract more dangers than it wards off’. He asserted that confidence in the UK might be maintained by the ‘effective semblance’ of a small peacetime garrison, ‘provided that the whole potential of Britain (the strategic reserve and our general strength) is seen to be behind the garrison’. Therefore, they would have to convince the members of the Baghdad Pact that reinforcements would be available for the Middle East, as they had been in the last war. This ‘concealment’ (as the facade was sometimes called) would also create a most delicate situation vis-à-vis the Americans and the Turks, at the impending staff talks. As there was no thought of concealing their real strength (or weakness) from the Americans, it would hardly be possible to conceal from the Turks that which they had already told the former (It appears that neither were the Americans above emplying subterfuge with their NATO Allies.).* The Foreign Office was quite aware that this policy would involve running calculated risks, but concluded that the stakes were so high that they could not afford to abandon the case for ‘concealment’ without the most careful consideration.53

* During the early years of NATO, the Americans took great care to reassure their allies that they would retain a permanent military presence on the European continent, when until the early 1950s, they had no such intention. This façade has been called by one scholar ‘a disgraceful . . . policy based upon deceit’.54

36

3 THE BRITISH STRATEGIC CONCEPT FOR THE MIDDLE EAST

In the Middle East the British never saw the writing on the wall until they hit their heads against it. (Sir Humphrey Trevelyan)1

In the early 1950s, British strategic planning for a possible war against the Soviet bloc distinguished between short-term and long-term goals. It was expected that the Cold War would continue for a long time, with periods of ‘greater and lesser tension’. The goals of the two opposing camps remained in conflict, and no change was forseen. But for the short term, it was believed that the Soviets wanted to avoid a ‘hot’ war, and would not deliberately initiate a global conflict. This prognosis would pertain for so long as the Soviets felt themselves to be vulnerable to nuclear attack by the Allies, but had not yet developed their own heavy bomber force, able strike back effectively against the continental United States. Nevertheless, given the fundamental ideological differences between the sides, war was always a possibility, which might result from either a miscalculation of the ‘political or strategic risks, or [an] accident, contrary to the present intentions of either side’.2 It was expected that by the end of the decade, the dangers of a global conflict, including a Soviet invasion of the Middle East, would increase. By then, the Soviets would have built a bomber force capable of reaching the United States and, due to the ‘psychological effect of the armaments race [and] the increasing importance of getting in the first blow’, the risks of a general conflict would increase.3 In the event of wider conflict, British planners expected that a Soviet nuclear offensive would cause severe damage to Western Europe’s main production areas during the first few days of the war. Allied strategy for the Middle East would be limited to holding operations, until the strategic air offensive took effect: ‘until the internal destruction wrought in Russia and China disrupts their war potential and finally undermines their will to continue the war’. The European theatre would be the decisive one, and the holding campaign in Europe would therefore receive priority over all others, in the Middle and Far East.4 37

B R I T I S H S T R AT E G I C C O N C E P T F O R T H E M I D D L E E A S T

Redeployment in the Middle East In February 1953, the Chiefs of Staff (COS) wrote a ‘Radical Review’ of the UK’s global strategy. It included a new ‘Mobile Reserve Concept’ for the Middle East: ‘ “Rapid, mobile forces” were to replace static and expensive defence lines.’ In the event of an emergency, the UK’s peacetime garrison in the Middle East would be reinforced rapidly by air.5 Back in November 1952, the CIGS, Sir John Harding, had defined two fundamental principles that were to govern the UK’s ‘post-Egypt’ strategy and requirements for bases in the Middle East. These principles marked the recognition that the UK could no longer aspire on its own to provide an effective defence of this theatre against foreign aggression. First, Harding asserted that the defence of the Middle East would have to depend in the future upon ‘a military coalition of the land and air forces of all the countries in the area’. He hoped that these forces would be ‘backed by a hard core of British forces’ and that this theatre would come under ‘predominantly British overall command and control’. And second, a prerequisite for any serious defence of the region would be a fully developed infrastructure of bases, communications and storage facilities in the region.6 The COS determined to reduce British commitments overseas to the very minimum required to achieve their strategic goals. This decision was based on the assumption that the probability of a general war in the short term had receded. But even during the Cold War, the British garrison must be such as to prevent the creation of a vacuum into which the Soviets might move. Military equipment and supplies must be pre-stocked in the Middle East, since reinforcements, if any could be spared, might take as long as six weeks to reach this theatre. A strategic reserve would be held in the UK, but airfield facilities must be retained in the Middle East, not only for tactical and strategic reasons, but also for the landing of reinforcements.7 The UK would be unable to retain sufficient forces in this theatre capable of meeting the estimated Soviet threat during the opening stages of a war. However, they had to be in a position to deploy sufficient forces within the first month of a war to form the backbone of indigenous defence forces, and also to buy enough time for Allied reinforcements to reach the front. Great store was laid on the psychological effect that a strong British force would have on the indigenous states of the region, in convincing them of the seriousness of Allied intentions. The COS warned that the UK’s status as a world power would depend upon its forces appearing to be ‘significant by comparison with the armies of the Middle East States’.8 In September 1954, GHQ, Middle East warned that: ‘There is already considerable concern amongst Middle East countries as to whether the Western Powers will have sufficient forces in the area to make it worth their while relying on them in a future war.’9 The achievement of all these goals would depend upon the friendly disposition and cooperation of the indigenous peoples of the Middle East.10 In the British view, this made it yet more imperative to establish, with the Americans, some

38


form of a Middle Eastern military framework. They hoped that their evacuation of Egypt would improve relations with that country to such an extent that the new officers’ regime might be induced to join a Middle East Defence Organization (MEDO). This would be a diluted version of the aborted Middle East Command (MEC) which the Egyptian ancien regime had rejected out of hand in the Autumn of 1951. MEDO would be ‘a planning organization only, ready for immediate expansion in the event of war’.11 CIGS Harding warned that ‘it would be folly to speak of pre-stocking vehicles and supplies forward until we knew they could be protected’. He added that without some organization such as MEDO ‘there could be no effective defence of the Middle East’. There was also a higher strategic goal behind the British push for MEDO – to try to involve the Americans more deeply in the Middle East, if not by deploying their own forces there, then by the infusion of ‘American dollars and equipment’ and the mobilization of their full political and military support.12 But the Eisenhower administration concluded from the abortive MEC experiment that future defence arrangements for the Middle East must be based on the initiative and active participation of the indigenous states. The new administration decided to allot $100 million in military aid to Middle Eastern countries under the FY 1954 Mutual Defense Assistance Program (MDAP). The JCS demurred: from their point of view, some form of a MEDO would be necessary in order to draw up detailed military studies of the defence requirements of each country in the region. American military aid could then be awarded on the basis of these studies.13 The Turks also pressed for the establishment of a MEDO, in order to cover what they called ‘a dangerous gap in the Middle East’.14 The Turks and the British tried to persuade the Americans to join them in setting up a MEDO on their own, without the initial participation of the Arabs. But the Americans balked at this, and opted instead for secret military talks on the Middle East with the Turks and the British.15 These administrative and logistic problems were never satisfactorily settled, even if the establishment of the Baghdad Pact in 1955 did partially alleviate some of them. In February 1954 (several months before the final evacuation agreement with the Egyptians was signed), the British government approved plans for the redeployment of the Middle East garrison from Egypt. As noted already, British Command Headquarters, Middle East, had already been moved from Egypt to Cyprus.16 Early plans stipulated that one Infantry Division, the 3rd, was to be left in the Middle East to defend British interests during the Cold War and to be available to fight on D-day. Of this single division, one infantry brigade, the 39th, and certain divisional elements would be stationed on Cyprus; and one armoured brigade group, less one regiment, in Libya. Both brigades would be placed on standby, for deployment to the Middle East front on D-day.17 However, in order to meet and engage the forward elements of the anticipated Soviet offensive, the planners thought it essential to station an armoured brigade as far forward in the Middle East as possible, preferably in Iraq. British armour 39


in the Middle East was essential; first, because the region’s open desert terrain lent itself to armoured warfare; and second, since the Soviet forces would inevitably also contain armoured elements, and would probably enjoy superiority in numbers. No Middle East state would be able to resist the Soviet armour, and a British armoured formation would be essential, if only in order to impress the Arabs and Turkey.18 As a first step to meet this requirement, the chiefs recommended seeking garrison rights from Jordan to station the armoured brigade on her territory in peacetime (the brigade was needed also to fulfil the UK’s treaty obligations to come to the aid of Jordan in the event of an Israeli attack; on this, see the next chapter).19 But even if Jordan did agree, the move would take years to effect, as the necessary accommodation and logistics were as yet lacking in that country. In the meantime, as noted, the armoured brigade group would be stationed in Libya.20 These plans were revised following the evacuation agreement with the Egyptians. The planners now determined that a full armoured division (three brigades) must be earmarked for the Middle East theatre. It was hoped also that a second armoured division, of Territorials, could be spared from the home-based strategic reserve. One brigade of the armoured division would be stationed as far forward to the Middle East front as possible; the other two would remain on standby in the UK. This meant that it would not be possible to move the full division to its war stations in time to block the Soviet offensive. The most optimistic scenario that the planners dared to hope for was to have a ‘skeleton brigade of some 4,500 men’ deployed at the strategic Zagros mountain passes by D ⫹ 14 (see Map 2). They estimated that they would be able to transport the remaining two brigades of the armoured division, with all their vehicles and stores, by sea from England to the Levant by D ⫹ 40. But this would depend upon several imponderables – the availability of sufficient shipping, of some 40 long-range transport aircraft (Hastings), and the pre-stocking of large quantities of stores and vehicles in the Middle East. The transfer of further reinforcements from the UK would depend upon the situation in Europe following the opening exchanges in the war, and upon the extent of the damage inflicted on British ports and air bases by Soviet attacks.21 As noted, British planners now counted also upon contributions from indigenous Middle Eastern forces; two-and-a-third divisions and three day fighter/ground attack (DF/GA) air squadrons (12 aircraft in each) from Iraq; and two-thirds of an infantry division (two brigades) from Jordan. The planners did not believe that Egypt would commit her forces to fight outside her own territory. Israel was considered to possess ‘the strongest and most efficient armed forces of any state in the Middle East’. But until there was a peace settlement between her and the Arab states, the latter would never permit Israeli land forces to transit or fight on their territory. The most that the Allies could hope for was that Israel would fight to defend her own territory, and that she would grant them full transit and base facilities (the port of Haifa was considered especially important).22 Allied and local tactical air forces were to be employed to gain time in which to concentrate forces in the Levant and move them to the front. According to Air 40


Force Plan ‘Locket’, drafted at the end of 1953, a Tactical Air Group, comprising both indigenous air forces and reinforcements from the British Middle East Air Force (MEAF) would interdict enemy forces at the strategic mountain passes and demolish oil installations in Iraq and Iran, in order to deny them to the enemy. The MEAF would consist of six squadrons: three DF/GA squadrons at Habbaniya, one in Jordan and one in Aden, and one Fighter Reconnaissance squadron in Cyprus. Owing to a critical lack of early warning radar and anti-aircraft defence systems, it would also be necessary to prepare forward airfields to the north and east of Mosul and Kirkuk, in northern Iraq.23

The Soviet threat to the Middle East As noted already, British strategy toward the Middle East had been transformed not only by the advent of nuclear and thermonuclear weapons, but also by the entry of Turkey into NATO. The assumption by the Supreme Commander Allied Forces in Europe (SACEUR) of strategic responsibility for western Turkey and Greece allowed the British to focus their own attentions on the Soviets’ anticipated offensive against the Northern Tier of the Middle East, south-eastwards through Iraq and Iran, to the head of the Persian Gulf.24 Until the late 1950s, the Soviets were expected to pursue their Cold War goals, in the Middle East of political and economic infiltration of the Arab world. The UK’s own strategic goals in this theatre would be to prevent ‘the spread of communism into the Arab states, and consequently, into Africa’; to guarantee access to those air bases required for the strategic air offensive; and to preserve for Allied use at least a part of the oil resources of the region. But British planners doubted whether the indigenous states of the region, ‘with the exception of Turkey and Israel . . . ‘could withstand an intensified [Soviet] political threat’.25 In the event of a ‘hot’ war, the UK would attempt to hold on to as much of the Middle East as possible, and to establish a strategic link with those Turkish forces that would form the ‘South east bastion of NATO’. British planners did not believe that the indigenous states of the Middle East, ‘either individually or collectively’, would be able to withstand a Soviet attack.26 Allied Intelligence estimates of the goals of a Soviet offensive against the Near and Middle East were revised and updated at least once a year. British planners expected Soviet goals in these theatres to be first, the immediate destruction of Allied strategic air bases; and second, a campaign against Turkey and Grecian Thrace, in order to secure control over Turkey’s strategic waterways, the Dardanelles and the Bosphorus. The Soviets would mount these operations on D-day, or shortly thereafter.27 However, the timing of Soviet land operations against the Middle East – Turkey in Asia, Iraq and Iran – would depend upon the number of Soviet forces be deployed to the Middle East and positioned to attack by D-day; and, the extent of collateral damage inflicted upon Soviet infrastructures and armed forces by the initial nuclear exchanges. Whatever the case, the Soviets would be highly motivated 41


to attack the Middle East as early as possible: first, in order to forestall the build-up of Allied forces, especially air forces, in this theatre; and second, to deny to the Allies the region’s oil resources. Their ultimate goal in the Middle East would be the occupation of its oil fields, and the conquest of Egypt.28 The Soviets’ two complementary campaigns against the Near and Middle East (Turkey and Grecian Thrace, Iraq and Iran) would not necessarily be interdependent. Success in either might lead to an opportunist offensive against the Levant. However, the Soviets were not expected to advance into the Levant before they had first subdued Turkey. In any event, Soviet forces would be able to contend with the Allied forces assembled in Egypt* more effectively if they had first subdued Turkey, Iraq and Iran in their rear.29 It was anticipated that the main Soviet thrust, against Turkey, would be conducted by a task force of some 18 divisions and 22 air regiments (some 770 aircraft – a Soviet air regiment usually numbered 35 aircraft). This force was expected to invade along two separate axes: one would invade Turkey-in-Europe from Bulgaria, and cross into Turkey-in-Asia via the Bosphorous and the Dardanelles; a second force would cross the Soviet–Turkish border, supported by amphibious landings along the Black Sea coast. It was expected that from 9 to 13 divisions (depending upon the extent of damage to the Turkish railway system) would deploy round the Iskenderun area, and that after they had consolidated their position, some of these units would be exploited for the conquest of the Levant.30 A second Soviet task force, composed of 14 divisions and 9 air regiments (some 320 aircraft), was expected to strike through Persia along several axes, via the strategic passes that cut through the Zagros mountains. Their mission would be to occupy Iraq and then advance to the Persian Gulf. The Soviets’ strategic goals would be to seize control of the Tigris–Euphrates Valley, and the region’s oilfields and installations; these conquests might then serve as a base from which to mount further military operations against the Levant and the oilfields of Kuwait, Bahrain and Saudi Arabia.31 One arm of the Soviet task force was expected to invade Iran through Djulfa, via the Ruwandiz and Penjwin passes, and advance to Mosul, Kirkuk and Baghdad; a second force would advance along the Meshed–Teheran axis and, having secured Teheran, would proceed to Basra via Khorrambad and Awhaz (see Map 1). The Soviets were expected to send some ten divisions into Iraq, along three major axes – against Mosul, Baghdad and Basra. Of the three Soviet divisions expected to reach Basra, one, supported by up to two air regiments, was expected to press on immediately to the Persian Gulf oilfields. From there, the leading Soviet brigade might reach Kuwait within a couple of days. From Kuwait, one brigade, supported by some * By the beginning of 1954 the evacuation of the Egyptian base was assumed to be inevitable. But the British insisted on a clause granting them the use of the base’s military facilities in the event of foreign aggression against Egypt or any Arab state party to the treaty of Joint Defence of the Arab League, or against Turkey or Persia. It was expected that there would be an alert period of some two weeks prior to a Soviet attack.

42

S MTS

SYRIA

Aleppo

Urfa EL

BU

RZ M

Penjwin (Sennah)

Lake Urmia

Tabriz

Rowanduz

Diarbakir Mardin

EA

400

Map 2 The mountain ranges: the Taurus, Zagros and Elburz.

Miles

SAUDI ARABIA

KUWAIT

Shaiba

BASRA

Dizful Ahwaz

Khurramabad

R

TS

LF

MUSCAT AND OMAN

IRAN

O UN TA IN S

N

200

RED SEA

JORDAN

AMMAN

PE

A SI

0

EGYPT

ISRAEL

MEDITERRANEAN SEA Tripoli IRAQ Paitak ZAG DAMASCUS RO LEBANON Habbaniya Mafraq Rutba S Haifa Kermanshah BAGHDAD M

TA U RU

NORTHER NA NA TO L I A N M T S M TS TURKEY RUS U A T IANT

BLACK SEA

S IAN SP CA U G

ARABIAN SEA

PAKISTAN

AFGHANISTAN

THE SOVIET UNION


35 jet fighters and 30 light bombers, was expected to rush on to Dhahran in Saudi Arabia. A third, smaller force would advance through the largely desert areas from Ashkabad via Meshed and Yezd to Bandar Abbas, which commanded the egress from the Persian Gulf into the Arabian Sea and the Indian Ocean.32 The Joint Intelligence Committee (JIC) expected that with only light indigenous opposition, the various Soviet task forces invading Iran might reach Teheran by D ⫹ 7 days, Mosul by D ⫹ 23 days, Kirkuk by D ⫹ 28 days, Baghdad by D ⫹ 38 days, and Basra by D ⫹ 40 days. They expected that Soviet columns of regimental strength would arrive at the three major strategic passes within a few days: at the Ruwandiz Gorge by two-and-a-half days, at the Senneh Pass by four-and-ahalf days and at the Paitak Pass by seven days. Once they secured these passes, the Soviets’ regimental units could be built up to divisional strength within 72 hours.33 Several opportunities might present themselves to the Soviets for quick followup operations to exploit their initial advances. Of the total of ten Soviet divisions and eight air regiments that would invade Iraq, seven divisions, backed by six air regiments, were expected to be used for follow-up operations in the Levant. If the Soviet high command became convinced that a quick exploitation of their advance could bring a rapid victory over allied forces in the Levant, six of these divisions, with air support, might be dispatched across the desert from Baghdad against Northern Israel without waiting on the outcome of operations in Turkey. This force might reach Israel by D ⫹ 90 days. If the idea of a quick exploitation was rejected, the Soviets would probably invade Syria via the Mosul–Aleppo railway (west to Aleppo and then southwards), and westwards along the Rutba–Mafraq axis.34 British planners believed that the Allies’ ‘forward defensive’ strategy could hold up the Soviet offensive, provided that the Americans agreed to divert part of their strategic air offensive to the nuclear interdiction of Soviet forces at the mountain passes. It was assumed that in any general conflict, nuclear weapons would be employed by each side from D-day – but the JIC felt unable to make any estimate of the effect of Allied nuclear bombing on either the rate or timings of Soviet advances.35 At the same time, the planners assumed that the Soviet Long-Range Air Force (SLRAF – the Soviet equivalent of SAC) would not divert any of their long-range TU4s against the Middle East – even if the entire Middle East theatre came within their range. Exceptions that the SLRAF might attack would be bases from which the Allies were launching their own nuclear bombers against the Soviet Union, or those targets which were thought essential to Allied communications. Targets under these categories included the Suez Canal base, Malta, Cyprus and Alexandria.36 The Allies’ ‘forward defensive’ strategy would depend also upon Turkish forces making a firm stand on the left flank of the Zagros positions, upon the finding of ‘adequate forces . . . for the defence of the head of the Persian Gulf’, and upon the Arabs contributing military facilities. Not only that, but the Allies still needed to find sufficient forces to fill the gap between the head of the Persian Gulf and the 44


Turkish border.37 The prospect of fulfilling all of these desiderata was somewhat dubious, to say the least.

The nuclear factor The answer to the conundrum of defending the Middle East with hopelessly out-numbered forces was supplied by nuclear weapons. The defence of the Middle East theatre would have to depend upon an immediate nuclear counterattack against any Soviet offensive; and, no less important, the promise of using the nuclear option against the Soviets would also, it was hoped, convince the Arabs to side with the Allies. In the initial nuclear exchange that was expected to characterize any future war, speed was of the very essence. Therefore, all planning for this theatre rested on the assumption that nuclear weapons would be available immediately, at the very hour (H-hour) of the outbreak of any conflict. When the British joined the Baghdad Pact in April 1955 they promised its Moslem members to deploy four squadrons of nuclear-capable, medium-range, Canberra bombers to the Middle East, as their contribution to the Pact. The Canberras were promised for deployment on Cyprus by 1957 to 1958; they were to be equipped with nuclear weapons by 1959 (eventually, two nuclear-armed Canberra squadrons arrived on Cyprus in July 1960, and an additional two in July 1961).38 In the late 1950s, additional air bases were developed at Akrotiri in Cyprus and at Luqa in Malta. These were to accommodate the nuclear-enabled V-Bombers. The mission of these additional air bases was to apply ‘extra pressure on the Soviet air defence system by threatening attacks from multiple directions in a global war’.39 Throughout the 1950s, the UK’s entire strategic concept for the Middle East had perforce to rest upon an American nuclear contribution. But until mid-1956, the British still had no idea about American nuclear targeting priorities for different theatres in wartime, or how soon any of their nuclear-armed aircraft might arrive in Middle East (American legislation still required that all nuclear weapons be stored in the continental USA). Even after the British Canberras earmarked for the Middle East were equipped with nuclear bombs, the UK would still need to rely upon the US to share the nuclear burden in this theatre. To achieve this, the British would have to persuade their Atlantic ally to amend existing security legislation, so as to permit the necessary closer cooperation and sharing of US nuclear secrets that was currently prohibited.40 (This legislation was finally amended in the Spring of 1957, as part of the reconciliation that followed the major rift between the Allies caused by the Suez crisis; see chapter 10.) It was feared that early Soviet advances might wreak such damage on Allied forces that the latter would be unable to launch their own nuclear offensive. The RAF warned that unless the Soviet offensive in the Middle East was blunted quickly by Allied counter-strikes, the Allies’ own forward air bases would suffer critical damage. This might lead to the elimination of Allied forces in this theatre before they even had a chance to mount a counter-attack.41 45


At joint staff talks held between the British, the Americans and the Turks in the Spring of 1955 (see chapter 7), the nuclear concept for the Middle East was agreed upon. There was a general consensus that nuclear weapons would be needed in the Middle East at H-hour. However, it would take at least 18 hours to fly out the nuclear weapons stored in the US. The Americans agreed to consider the provision of ‘a small U.S. nuclear delivery capability’ for this theatre, provided that secure and satisfactory bases and weapons storage facilities in the area could be provided.42 The purpose of an immediate Allied nuclear response was less to stop or eliminate a Soviet offensive than to delay it. Roads could be repaired easily and quickly to the standards required by a Soviet ground division; and no one was able yet to asses the effect of nuclear weapons upon massed formations of soldiers, although some ‘targets of opportunity’ were expected to present themselves.43 It was estimated that the use of nuclear weapons would delay the leading Soviet divisions at the Zagros strategic passes by two days only. The Allies hoped to impose substantive losses on the leading Soviet ground divisions at the passes: some 15 percent of their combat effectiveness at the Ruwandiz and Penjwin passes, and 25 percent at the Paitak and Khurramabad passes.44 Nuclear attacks and repeat attacks were expected to reduce the Soviet air and ground threats considerably, and to inhibit seriously the Soviets’ ability to resupply their ground forces, which were expected to enter the war with about 30 days supplies. With repeat attacks, the Soviet air threat might be reduced by up to 60 to 70 percent, and the Soviet build-up of ground forces indicted by up to 50 percent.45 The COS noted that the nuclear concept for the Middle East was based upon the use of ‘standard’ 20-kiloton (20,000 ton) bombs, of the size used against Japan in World War Two. They suggested that the use of just a few higher-yield weapons might both reduce the number of weapons required for this theatre and inflict substantially greater damage to Soviet air and ground forces.46 The use of thermonuclear weapons in the Middle East was not apparently considered.

The Levant–Iraq strategy The key question asked by British planners from 1954 onwards, was what would be the best strategy for defending Allied interests in the Middle East against the Soviet threat in the ‘post-Egypt’ era? Deprived of the base in Egypt, and forced to reduce her own Middle East garrison to a bare minimum, the UK would be all the more dependent upon other Middle Eastern countries for bases and facilities for the pre-stocking of equipment and supplies. With the evacuation of Egypt, Iraq now assumed strategic pre-eminence in British plans for the Middle East. By 1954, both the Allies had switched to a ‘forward concept’, or ‘Levant–Iraq’ strategy. The defence line determined upon in existing plans, the ‘Inner Ring’, was to be pushed north and east to the Northern Tier – to Turkey, Iraq, Iran and Pakistan.47 The new line would have to cover at least Iraq’s northern and eastern borders, in order to guarantee her against Soviet 46


aggression. In the event of war, the UK’s armoured division in the Middle East would have to be deployed forward rapidly, ‘to meet the enemy as far to the North and East [of Iraq] as possible’. Failure to reassure Iraq on this might drive that country to a policy of neutrality, and consequently to demand the total withdrawal of British forces already stationed on its soil. As many support aircraft as possible would be mobilized to this front, depending both on their availability and on the number of Middle East bases available to accommodate them.48 Yet all these plans could at best only be tentative, due to a large number of imponderables: ‘the rate of the Russian advance’, which would depend on how much of the Allied strategic air offensive was targeted to the Middle East theatre, and how effective it proved to be; ‘the effectiveness of Iraqi resistance . . . and the rate of reinforcement of [British] forces’. And, as noted already, the UK’s ability to send reinforcements to the Midedle East at all would depend upon the extent of the damage inflicted by the Soviet strategic air offensive against the home island.49 The RAF believed that the use of atomic weapons during the early stages of a major war would inhibit the Soviets’ ability to develop a significant offensive against the Middle East through the Caucasus. This improved the prospects of being able to hold the Soviets to the north-east of Iraq. And that increased the importance of the Iraqi air bases, and of any additional forward bases and pre-stocking facilities that might be secured, both in Iraq and in Jordan.50 Resigned to the evacuation of Egypt, and the need to find alternative accommodation for some of the 80,000 British personnel stationed there, the COS could not now afford also to lose the last significant military asset that they still had access to in the Middle East – in Iraq. Nor could the UK government, after the evacuation of Egypt, afford the further loss of face in the Middle East that this would have incurrred. During the course of 1954, the COS and the joint planning staffs (JPS) conducted extensive new studies of the UK’s strategic requirements in Iraq. CIGS Harding asserted that future British strategy in the Middle East would depend upon their ability to deploy forward rapidly those limited British forces that would be left in the Middle East, and the establishment of peacetime arrangements that would, ‘enable the whole military apparatus to be in position and functioning smoothly on or very soon after the outbreak of war’.51 The military advised that they would need unrestricted use of the two existing air bases in Iraq (Habbaniyah and Shaiba), as well as of any additional airfields (in north-east Iraq) that could be made available. They would be used both for tactical air support operations in the Middle East and for staging military aircraft in transit to the Far East, Australia or New Zealand. Habbaniyah and Shaiba also constituted a significant ‘real-estate’ asset, which currently accommodated some 4,000 British personnel. The planners wanted to retain at least one air squadron in Iraq, and sufficient maintenance personnel at the air bases for ‘maintaining the operational machinery of a tactical air force’. They would also require air transit rights across Iraqi territory and the full use of Iraqi ports in the Shatt-al-Arab; also the ‘co-ordination of British and Iraqi operational and logistic planning in peace 47


for the defence of Iraq in war’. Pre-stocking facilities for military equipment would be particularly important since, as already noted, the COS had serious doubts about their ability to send supplies overseas from the UK once the latter came under Soviet nuclear attack.52 In summation, the key to the defence of Iraq lay in the blocking of the Soviet offensive at the strategic passes giving access to northern Iraq from Iran. At best, the Soviet offensive would be held up and cut down in size. But Allied armoured and ground units would still be needed in order to engage those Soviet forces that did get through. These would have to be engaged by ‘British, Iraqi and Arab Legion forces’. The drafting of this strategy would require the advanced reconnaissance of the passes and the ‘coordination of operational and logistic planning’ with the Iraqis in peacetime. The largest of the passes, through which the enemy was expected to develop the greatest threat, was the Paitak, which in fact lay some 30 miles inside Iranian territory (see Map 2). In order to occupy and defend the Paitak pass in time of war, the Allies would have to deploy forces in north-east Iraq in peacetime. This would be contingent upon the pre-stocking of supplies and equipment.53 But the full attainment of these goals was far beyond the UK’s own resources. In 1954, the paucity of British land and air forces available for the Middle East did not yet permit planning for anything more than the defence of the ‘Inner Ring’, and the deployment of light mobile forces as far as possible to the north and east of that line, in an effort to delay any Soviet offensive. Neither did the Inner Ring cover the defence of the Persian Gulf oil fields, although their defence remained a strategic goal.54 The British could not hope to hold up a Soviet offensive against the Middle East without American aid (the same might be said of the European members of NATO in regard to Western Europe). Not only would part of the American strategic air offensive have to be committed to the Middle East, but American air transport would be required, as would their military aid to build up Iraqi military forces. American political leverage would also be needed in securing additional base facilities in the region, especially after the British evacuated the Egyptian base.55 The effectiveness of the new forward strategy, soon to become a joint AngloAmerican project, appeared now to hinge largely upon whether the Iraqis could be persuaded that the West was able to defend them.

48

4 THE ARAB–ISRAELI PROBLEM

Except for Israel we could form a viable policy in the area [the Middle East]. (President Dwight D. Eisenhower, July 1958)1

In addition to the strong anti-colonialist currents sweeping the Middle East during this period, the Arab–Israeli conflict may be singled out as the major obstacle to Allied contingency planning for the Middle East. The Allies believed that their own agenda of mobilizing the indigenous states of the region against the Soviet Union was foiled more than anything by this problem. A typical expression of this belief appears in a secret British Intelligence report written at the end of 1954: ‘There is insufficient comprehension of the Soviet or Communist threat, and the Arab States are far more concerned with the threat from Israel . . . [which] dominates all Arab political thinking about their policy towards the West.’2 The UK’s own particular dilemma regarding the Arab–Israeli conflict was defined succintly in the same report: While a friendly Israel would be a strategic requirement in wartime, the friendship of the Arab States would be an absolute necessity. Arab friendship is essential if the area is to be helped to defend itself against the political threat. But so long as the Arab-Israel dispute continues we shall be under a serious handicap in securing the full co-operation of the Arab States since we can never unreservedly take their side in any question involving Israel.3 Neither the UK nor the US were ever able to solve this dilemma. The continuing regional conflicts provide a classical example of the determination of smaller states to adhere to ‘their own domestic and regional agendas’, regardless of those of the Great Powers, who were preoccupied with the challenges presented by their global rivals. It also serves also as an illustration of the Great Powers’ limited or non-existent ability to control their local clients.4 49

THE ARAB– I SRAELI P RO B L E M

Israel’s place in Allied Middle Eastern strategy The State of Israel, a newcomer to the Middle East, had declared its independence in May 1948. From 1947 to 1948, President Truman’s support for Israel initiated what would become a long-term American commitment to her survival. In the first Arab–Israeli war that followed in 1948, Israel surprised the world by triumphing over the efforts of five Arab states to crush it at infancy on the field of battle. Throughout the 1950s, both the UK and the US believed that, apart from Turkey, Israel continued to be the strongest military force in the region, and would be ‘able to defend itself against any likely combination of Arab states’.5 The Allies were indeed impressed by Israel’s military potential. But the strategic assets of the Arabs – oil and bases – continued to outweigh by far any military or strategic asset that Israel could possibly offer. Israel’s place in the UK’s Middle Eastern strategy is well defined by the following extract, typical of the many memoranda composed by Allied planners on the subject. The following was written by the British Chiefs of Staff (COS) in March 1953: The importance of Israel in relation to the defence of the Middle East on account of its geographical position, its military potential, and its welldeveloped facilities has long been realised. However, covert co-operation with Israel would inevitably arouse strong opposition by the Arab States and, if carried beyond a certain point, would rob us of their co-operation in the defence of the area. Arab goodwill is essential to the success of our plans and is more important than that of Israel. Co-operation with Israel must be subordinated to our plans for the defence of the area as a whole, and must be within the limitations imposed by the need to avoid antagonising the Arabs. (my emphasis)6 The British government, unconstrained by the same domestic political exigencies (a significant Jewish constituency) that influenced President Truman had, since 1939, pursued a path of appeasing the Arab States at the expense of the Zionist enterprise in Palestine.7 However, this had not inhibited the UK from trying later to secure strategic facilities from the State of Israel. The Eisenhower administration made a subtle but significant departure from Truman’s policy towards Israel, one that has not been perceived by all historians.8 Truman had left office with a reputation for having pandered to the Zionist lobby in order to serve his own narrow political interests. President Eisenhower received intelligence assessments which claimed that Truman’s support for Israel was the principal reason for the current unpopularity of the US in the Middle East: ‘The Arabs’ belief that the US favors Israeli interests over their own has been chiefly responsible for the decline of US prestige and influence in the Arab world’.9 A Republican, Dwight Eisenhower was elected in 1952 without substantial Jewish support, which traditionally was given to the Democrats. Eisenhower was 50


acquainted personally with many Jewish community leaders. But he felt uncomfortable around Jews and he had no close Jewish friends. Nor did he make an effort to establish close relations with American Jewish leaders, as he did with the leaders of other sectors of the population.10 Eisenhower and Dulles were determined to break out of the ‘Truman tradition’, and to carve out their own so-called ‘neutralist’ policy towards the Middle East. At a meeting in October 1955 of the National Security Council (NSC), an official government institution, Secretary Dulles castigated the Truman administration for the problems that the new administration had inherited in the Middle East. He asserted that, ‘the previous Democratic Administration . . . had dealt with the Arab–Israeli problem on a purely political basis. The views of the Departments of State and Defense had generally been overruled by the White House on purely political grounds’.11 At a meeting with Rabbi Abba Hillel Silver, the militant Zionist leader and Republican supporter, President Eisenhower reaffirmed his administration’s commitment to Israel’s right to exist as a viable state in the Middle East. But he also made it clear to that ‘under no circumstances would the US favour the Israelis above the Arabs or vice versa’.12 The NSC policy paper drafted a few days later recommended that the United States should ‘make clear that Israel will not, merely because of its Jewish population, receive preferential treatment over any Arab state’.13 The Eisenhower administration was determined also to distance itself from the European colonial powers, the UK and France.14 When Secretary Dulles returned from his tour of the Middle East, in May 1953, he told the president that the UK and the French were ‘millstones around our neck’. During the Suez crisis, Dulles told a meeting of senior American officials that he ‘had been greatly worried for two or three years over our identification with countries pursuing colonial policies not compatible with our own’. For their part, the two European powers tended to regard US anti-colonialism as a self-interested, cynical exploitation of their troubles in the region, a ploy ‘to curry favor with the Arabs’.15 In general, the Allies saw eye to eye on Israel’s geo-strategic importance for the defence of the Middle East. However, they differed over the degree of military cooperation to be sought with the Jewish state. There is some irony in the fact that the UK was more eager to pursue direct military contacts with the Israelis than the Americans. The Foreign Office expressed the pious hope that any peacetime arrangements reached with Israel could be kept from ‘public or . . . Arab ears’, and conjectured accurately that the Americans would be ‘reluctant to see the West identified yet more closely with Israel’.16 An American Intelligence report dated August 1953 had warned that Israel would demand ‘an exorbitant price’ for the granting of any military facilities on its soil. Israel had already made clear her opposition to the stationing of foreign troops on its soil in peacetime. The Americans concluded that not only would the Allies be unable to use Israeli troops ‘in combined operations with Arab forces’, but that Israel would be unlikely to risk sending her forces outside its own territory, for fear of an Arab attack on the Israeli homeland. The Americans were also 51


apprehensive of Arab hostility to any peacetime arrangements that the Allies concluded for the use of Israel’s military and strategic facilities. They feared that this would ‘almost certainly provoke bitter ill-will and jeopardize Western use of facilities in Arab countries’. The maximum that the Americans permitted themselves to hope for was that Israel would ‘fight tenaciously in defense of its own territory’.17 But the British, not the Americans, were responsible for the defence of the Middle East – at least at the beginning of the period with which this work deals. British planners believed that it was essential to conclude such agreements with Israel in peacetime as would permit the Allies to use the latter’s military facilities, and to call upon its armed forces in time of war. No matter which defence lines were ultimately decided upon, the Allies would need to develop and improve their lines of communication (LOC) through Israel; they would also require access to Israel’s military facilities – its British-built ports and airfields. The UK was interested also in the peacetime development in Israel of an Allied maintenance area with accommodation for transport vehicles and armed forces, and the prestocking of equipment and oil-storage.18 The UK had already conducted high-level negotiations with the Israelis in 1951, and again in 1952, in an effort to reach agreement on the use of their military facilities and armed forces in the event of general war. But British and Israeli conceptions about the future role of the Israeli army were almost diametrically opposed. The British Military mission that visited Israel in October 1952, in mufti, failed to reach any consensus on military or strategic cooperation.19 The divergence between the two states was inevitable, since each had its own agenda and priorities. The British were interested in mobilizing indigenous forces in the Middle East for the defence of the entire region against a possible Soviet offensive. The Israelis were concerned primarily with defending their borders against the ‘second round’ threatened by the Arab states. Israeli strategic doctrine during the early 1950s laid emphasis on the infantry. The Israeli Air Force (IAF) was as yet in its infancy. In contrast, the British were interested in promoting only the IAF, as a contribution to the region’s tactical air forces. British Intelligence reported that Israeli pilots were the finest in the Middle East, and that the IAF had the best technical support of any air force in the Middle East. The British also knew that the Arabs would never allow Israeli ground forces even to transit, let alone fight, on their territory against a Soviet offensive. However, the Arabs might just agree to Israeli aircraft overflying their territory. Further, the British hoped that the IAF would help make up their own greatest deficiency in the Middle East – in the air. The planners reasoned that the ground campaign in the Middle East would be secondary to that in the air – as once Soviet ground forces reached Israel’s borders, the Allied cause in the Middle East would in any case have been effectively lost.20 The British believed that Israel, a ‘client state’ of the West, could be brought to heel. They were convinced that the US could secure whatever they wanted from Israel, since the latter’s economy depended upon the US, from whom she received 52


both charitable contributions (from the Jewish community) and economic aid. Further, Israel was also dependent upon the West for equipment and supplies for its armed forces.21 The COS stated bluntly that the Israelis were ‘in no position to insist on their own point of view where that differs from the plans and wishes of the Western Powers, upon whom Israel is dependent financially and economically’.22 There were elements of both naiveté and colonialist paternalism in this line of thought. The UK persisted in the belief that the indigenous states of the region should subordinate what they considered to be their own vital national interests to what the Allies thought were the more important exigencies of their own global and Middle Eastern strategy. American purse strings were to be used to bring into line those states of the region that were dependent on Western aid but refused to fall in with the Allies’ strategic agenda for their region. Following the Suez War (Sinai campaign), in January 1957, Eisenhower did consider imposing economic sanctions on Israel by blocking private gifts by American Jews. He believed that the threat to stop the flow of this money would be sufficient to persuade Israel to withdraw from Gaza. The American Secretary of the Treasury, George M. Humphrey, reported to the president that these taxdeductible gifts were running at some $40 millions per annum, and that a further $60 millions of Israel bonds were sold each year in the United States. However, due to domestic political reasons, the Congress was unwilling to condone further pressure on Israel.23 With the UK’s adherence to the Baghdad Pact in April 1955 (see chapter 6), followed by the Czech arms deal to Egypt the following September, British policy towards Israel took an insidious turn. It is instructive to examine the views of Evelyn Shuckburgh, the assistant secretary of state in charge of Middle East affairs at the Foreign Office, who exerted a seminal influence on British policy in the Middle East during this period. Shuckburgh was apprehensive that the new arms race precipitated by the sale of modern Soviet weaponry to Egypt would soon ignite a new Arab–Israeli war. He warned his colleagues that ‘continued support of Israel is incompatible with British interests’ and that any Allied policy favouring Israel would make Iraq’s position impossible and alienate the entire Arab world: ‘The Egyptian position, posing as the most fanatical anti-Israeli, anti-Imperialist power, would be irresistible to all Arabs.’24 Shuckburgh’s superior, Sir Harold Caccia, concurred, and asked if this meant that the UK would ‘have to pay a heavy price in the sense of a complete abandonment of Israel.’25 The tensions of the following months imposed a heavy strain on Shuckburgh’s nerves, and his private diary affords ample evidence of his emotional, at times neurotic, bias against Israel. In March 1956, he confided to his diary: I am at the end of my patience and also very depressed. Everything goes wrong . . . A bloody afternoon, not seeing how I shall ever escape from this foul Middle East job’.26 Shuckburgh’s reactions to the increasing fears of a new Arab–Israeli war are dealt with in more detail in chapter nine. The British bias was given practical expression in the Cabinet’s decision to favour Jordan and Iraq over Israel in the supply of arms. Their decision, as the 53


government was well aware, was a radical departure from the policy laid down under the Tripartite Declaration of May 1950. By that policy declaration, the UK, the US and France had agreed to preserve an arms balance in the Middle East, while providing for each country’s legitimate defence needs, and permitting each ‘to play their part in the defence of the area as a whole’.27 The failure of the declaration to have had any effect on subsequent events in the region has been called ‘a glaring example of the three powers’ inability to impose peace on the Middle East’.28 The ‘reassessment’ of the UK’s arms policy towards the Middle East was explained on the grounds of the difficulty of maintaining any objective balance, since it was impossible to ascertain what constituted a military balance between Israel and the Arab states, especially in the air. This was because on the one hand, the Israelis were more highly skilled and had a higher morale than the Arabs; and on the other, that it was impossible to predict to what extent the Arabs would coordinate their forces effectively in the event of war.29 However, the Minister of Defence, Selwyn Lloyd, told his cabinet colleagues bluntly that in view of their treaty obligations to Iraq and Jordan, and in order to retain some influence with the officers’ regime in Egypt, it was, undesirable from the purely strategic point of view that we should continue to build up the armed strength of Israel in order to maintain a balance of forces between Israel and the Arab States collectively. It is right, on the other hand, that Iraq, who has accepted regional responsibility in the Middle East, and Jordan to whom we have special obligations, should receive preferential treatment in regard to the supply of arms over the other Arab States who have not joined the defence [Baghdad] pact.30 In July 1954, the COS recommended that their current policy be changed, and that henceforth no ‘sharp’ land or air weapons (tanks, aircraft) should be supplied to Israel. It was suggested that the US, who concurred with the British view that Israel currently enjoyed military superiority over any possible combination of the Arab States, should be asked to approach the French, to persuade them not to supply Israel with the latest AMX tanks and swept-wing Mystère jet fighter aircraft.31 (Behind this request lay the British fear that the French Mystères were superior to their own Venoms currently in service in the Middle East.)32 On 13 July 1955, the Cabinet decided that Iraq and Jordan would in future be given preferential treatment in arms supplies. But the Cabinet rejected the COS recommendation to impose a complete arms ban on Israel, and decided instead to supply limited quantities of offensive weapons to her.33 The Meteor jet fighters supplied to Israel by the UK were in any case outdated. Seeing that in June 1954 the US had also refused to release modern jet fighters to Israel, it turned to France, who agreed to supply ‘sharp’ weapons. A first batch of 12 modern Mystère 4A jet fighters arrived in Israel in March 1956. In June of the same year, French and Israeli officials signed an agreement in Paris for the supply to Israel 54


of 72 Mystère 4As, 120 AMX tanks, 40 super-Sherman tanks, as well as other arms and ammunition.34 The sale of French arms to Israel exacerbated mutual animosities between the UK and France. The French blamed the UK and her ‘creation’, the Baghdad Pact, for having produced the current schism inside the Arab world, causing those left outside it to be yet more hostile to Israel and to the idea of any cooperation with the West. Myopically, the Foreign Office blamed France for stepping up the arms race in the Middle East by supplying the Mystères to Israel. Characteristically, Shuckburgh lamented to his diary: ‘We really must try to get the French to stop messing everything up.’35

The Anglo-Jordanian Mutual Defence Treaty In March 1946, the UK and Jordan had signed a mutual defence treaty. In May of that year the Transjordanian parliament changed the country’s name to Jordan, and Abdullah’s title from emir to king. Jordan became ostensibly an independent kingdom. Yet a special annex of the treaty promised the UK the continued use of Jordan’s military facilities, and the continued payment from the British Exchequer of the annual subsidy to the Arab Legion.36 The terms of the ‘mutual defence’ clause were left vague. The treaty caused the UK no end of headaches during the first half of the 1950s. Jordan interpreted the UK’s obligations under the treaty as meaning that the UK would automatically come to its rescue in the event of an Israeli attempt to conquer Jordan’s West Bank. The unstable border between Israel and Jordan and the potential for armed conflict between them frequently put this question to the test. But the UK was not prepared to intervene each time Israel launched retaliatory raids against Jordan in response to Arab infiltrations and terror attacks inside Israel proper. Neither did she respond automatically to recurring Jordanian warnings that Israel was about to launch a full-scale offensive across the 1949 armistice lines.37 However, British planners did fear that failure to honour their treaty obligations to Jordan would have a critical effect on the UK’s status in the region. Fear of ‘losing face’ in the Middle East was always a key consideration in the determination of British strategy there. In April 1955, with the UK’s adherence to the Baghdad Pact, the JPS warned that any failure to meet their treaty obligations to Jordan (by sending in ground reinforcements in the event of war) would result in serious political repercussions ‘throughout the Middle East, and particularly in Iraq and the Baghdad Pact countries’.38 In 1954, King Hussein asked London to revise the arrangement under their joint treaty whereby the British subsidy was paid each year into a special account in a London bank, under British supervision. Hussein proposed that London begin paying him directly a fixed rental for the military facilities enjoyed by British forces in Jordan – in multi-annual installments, in advance. This would free Hussein from the supplicant–client relationship, whereby he was forced to come cap in hand to the British each year. However, the British were not about to 55


relax their grip on Jordan. They put off Hussein with the argument that any treaty revision would be premature, before the government finalized other regional treaty arrangements. In particular, the UK needed to see what her defence relationship with Iraq would be after 1957, when the Anglo-Iraqi Treaty was due to expire.39 Whitehall was convinced that Israel was determined to extend her eastern border to the River Jordan. Officials at Whitehall considered the question whether the UK was bound to come to Jordan’s aid in the event of an Israeli attack on the West Bank, or only in the event of an Israeli attack on Jordan proper, on the East Bank? They feared that Israel would seize the first opportunity to conquer Palestine up to the River Jordan, and appreciated that Jordanian forces were incapable of preventing her from doing so. Israel was assumed to have the equivalent of three infantry divisions, including some armoured units (45,000 in regular units, with reserves of between 150,000 and 200,000) and an airforce of some 70 aircraft. To meet this threat, the Jordanians were able to field approximately one infantry division (by 1956, some 23,000 in the Arab Legion with an additional 30,000 mobilized into the Jordanian National Guard). But Jordan had no artillery or armour and virtually no air force: it did have a few light reconnaissance, communications and trainer aircraft, but no fighters or bombers. Moreover, its only fighting force, the Arab Legion, was dispersed along Jordan’s lengthy border with Israel.40 General Glubb, commander of the Arab Legion, warned that the force’s entire command structure was precarious; he judged the legion’s Arab officers (mostly Bedouin) by British standards. Since most of them were under 30 years of age, and lacked any formal education, he thought them unsuitable for promotion to senior ranks. Further, none had any serious war experience, apart from a few battles in Palestine in 1948.41 In December 1955, Glubb told the visiting CIGS, Field Marshal Templer, that although some Jordanian officers had been in the military for 14 years, none would be fit to command a brigade for at least another 3 years. It would take a further ten years before any Arab officer would be able to take command of a division. Glubb himself was accused by Hussein of trying to keep all military matters in his own hands.42 British planners did give consideration to beefing up the Arab Legion – for instance, with an effective anti-tank unit.43 But the government was not prepared to make any substantial outlays on military equipment for Jordan (even though in December 1955 the Cabinet did dangle significant military inducements to Jordan in an unsuccessful attempt to persuade her to join the Baghdad Pact; see chapter 6). Thus, British plans for honouring their treaty obligations to defend Jordan were reduced to two options: the first, to deter Israel by increasing the British military presence in Jordan (as noted already, the stationing of an armoured division in northern Jordan was a major British strategic interest in the Middle East); and second, the preparation of contingency plans for coming to the immediate defence of Jordan in the event of an Israeli attack. From the end of 1954, as the British withdrawal from Egypt proceeded apace, these plans rapidly became anachronistic. 56


Initial British plans to come to Jordan’s defence in the event of an Israeli aggression were drafted in the early 1950s. The last revision of these plans before the signing of the Anglo-Egyptian agreement was made in January 1954. The goal of British operations would be to force Israel to withdraw as soon as possible behind its own, 1948 frontiers. A joint land, sea and air assault on Israel would be launched by British forces stationed in Egypt and in Jordan.44 The UK would use a full division and one armoured regiment to attack Israel from northern Sinai. The mission of this force would be to advance along Israel’s coastal plain, up to Tel Aviv and Lydda. The RAF would ‘neutralise’ (destroy) the Israeli airforce, for which purpose the Venom day fighter/ground attack (DF/GA) squadrons in Jordan would be reinforced. Extra bombers would be flown in for attacks on Israeli airfields and for the interdiction of their ground forces. The Royal Navy would impose a naval blockade on Israel’s coasts.45 With the Anglo-Egyptian evacuation agreement in July 1954, it became obvious that all plans involving the deployment of British ground forces from Egypt would shortly become inoperable. The Foreign Office asked the planners to draft alternatives.46 But they found it impossible to come up with any feasible alternative. By 1 December 1954, British forces in the Canal Zone would be run down below the strength needed to carry out the existing plan to come to Jordan’s aid. The UK needed to retain Jordan’s confidence in its ability to defend it against Israel, but any pretence of adhering to the present plan would have been ‘little more than a bluff’.47 The evacuation of the garrison from Egypt, and its redeployment around the Middle East and the Eastern Mediterranean required new contingency plans for the Middle Eastern theatre. The ground division would be dispersed in Cyprus, Libya and Jordan. The air forces would be scattered between Aden, Iraq, Cyprus and Malta, with one squadron in Jordan. In June 1955, the planners drafted a new, detailed plan to come to Jordan’s aid in the event of an Israeli aggression – Joint Operation Instruction 27 (JOI 27). It received initially the code-name ‘Catapault’, then ‘Encounter’ and finally ‘Cordage’.48 The planners estimated that an Israeli offensive would be limited to seizing the Jordananian-occupied West Bank and to inflicting the maximum possible casualties on the Arab Legion. However, if the UK intervened Israel was expected to attack the airfields at Amman and Mafraq. It was anticipated that the Israelis would employ forces of approximately one armoured and three infantry divisions, along several fronts. 1

2

An initial thrust southwards by a force of one armoured and two infantry brigades down the Jordan valley from Beisan, with the object of reaching the Jisr Damiya bridge on the river Jordan. The main thrust was expected to be made by a force of one armoured and five infantry brigades eastwards from the Jerusalem corridor, in a move to encircle Ramallah and East Jerusalem. The task of the armoured brigade would be to reach the Allenby bridge, on the River Jordan. 57


3

In the centre, a force of one armoured combat team and one infantry brigade might attack Nablus.49

In addition, Israel was expected to drop paratroop forces of battalion strength to capture the two main River Jordan crossings – the Jisr Damiya and Allenby bridges. Israel was likely to deploy shielding forces along its borders with Syria and Egypt, each numbering two infantry brigades. It was expected to deploy some 150 aircraft in the operation.50 Early British plans during 1955 contained no provisions for the use of the remnants of their ground forces still in the Middle East and Mediterranean areas. However, by the end of the year, plans were being drafted to fly out from the UK to Jordan a Parachute Brigade Group and an Infantry Brigade, to replace the force evacuated from Cyprus.51 The main British offensive against Israel would be carried out by the RAF, whose mission would be the ‘neutralisation’ of the Israeli air force. Cyprus, whose air bases were within striking distance of Israel, would become the main base for RAF operations. The all-weather DF/GA Venom squadrons would be flown in from Malta within 24 hours; in addition, a wing (45 aircraft) of swept-wing Sabre and Hunter fighter aircraft would also be flown out from the UK. The Venoms’ mission would be to attack Israeli aircraft, in the air or on the ground, as opportunities presented themselves. The Sabres and Hunters would defend the Cyprus air bases, and make ‘offensive sweeps over Israel’. Under plan Alacrity, two squadrons of Canberra light bombers (20 aircraft) would be flown from the UK to attack Israel’s major airfields (Ramat David, Hatzor, Ekron and Lydda). The planners estimated that it would take up to 96 hours to implement Alacrity.52 The commander-in-chief Middle East Air Force (MEAF), Air Marshal Sir Claude Pelly, claimed that he would need only three days to ‘neutralise’ the IAF. The air staff in London thought this estimate was over optimistic. They predicted that it would take at least two weeks – not only because the Israeli pilots were well trained, but also because the IAF had at its disposal 20 airfields across which to disperse its aircraft. Following the destruction of the IAF, the RAF would next provide air cover and support for the British commando force (see below), and for the Jordanian ground forces. The MEAF would have to operate either from the Cyprus bases or from aircraft carriers.53 The Royal Navy would take four days to impose a blockade on Israel’s coasts and would shell targets from the sea. Among the targets stipulated by JOI 27 for air bombing were the Reading power station and the army headquarters (the Kirya), both in Tel Aviv; the Sde Dov airfield and various road bridges in and around Tel Aviv; radar installations, civil airfields and IAF installations around Haifa; and the Rishpon and Herzlya airfields.54 A marine commando brigade would be brought in rapidly from Malta for ‘a diversionary landing’, but would not be able to attempt an opposed landing in less than one week. Ground forces in Jordan would have the limited missions of protecting British lives and property in the country, of securing the port and airfield at Aqaba, and of defending the 58


Amman and Mafraq airfields, if attacked. British forces would also, as far as possible, provide ground, sea and air support for Jordanian armed forces.55 However, whereas the British operations might eventually force Israel to withdraw her forces and sue for peace, the planners feared that the British military intervention ‘would not save the Arab Legion from destruction or the State of Jordan from complete collapse’.56 The British Defence Coordinating Committee, Middle East (BDDC, ME) concluded that the only way to save Jordan would be for the British armoured brigade (which could not be transported by air) to be stationed permanently in north Jordan (as stipulated by the UK’s regional requirements for a global war in this theatre).57 From late 1955, when Egypt received a significant shipment of arms from the Czechs (see below), the countdown to a new Middle East war began. Whitehall considered the various scenarios that might involve the country in a new war in the Middle East. The Foreign Office was concerned whether the UK would be obliged to come to Jordan’s aid if the latter attacked Israel in fulfillment of its treaty obligations to Egypt, under the Arab League Collective Security Pact (ALCSP). The department concluded that they would not be obliged to aid Jordan in the event that it attacked Israel. However, it was decided not to break this unpalatable piece of news to the Jordanians unless and until this eventuality arose. The legal experts advised that in any case, article two of their treaty committed the Jordanians to prior consultation with their British ally before going to war. 58

The Egyptian–Israeli military balance: the Czech arms deal The Anglo-Egyptian evacuation agreement of 1954 increased the prospect of a second Arab–Israeli war. The agreement removed British troops from the path of any future Egyptian–Israeli conflict, but contained no provision for keeping the peace on the Egyptian–Israeli border. The transfer to the Egyptians of British military installations in the Canal Zone would increase Egypt’s offensive capabilities. British commanders in the Middle East estimated presciently that tensions between Israel and the Arabs would increase as British forces were withdrawn, and an arms race between the two sides would ensue. Among themselves, the officials conceded that under the Tripartite Declaration of May 1950, the UK should have been prepared to compensate the Israelis, ‘to ensure that they are not placed at a disadvantage’.59 However, as seen above, in 1955 the UK embarked instead upon a policy of preferential supplies of arms to those Arab states that enjoyed ‘favoured client’ status. The UK could always justify its favouritism with the argument that Israel enjoyed overwhelming military superiority over any combination of Arab states, and was in any case protected by the Tripartite Declaration of 1950. In July 1954, on the day after the signature of the Anglo-Egyptian agreement, Secretary Dulles instructed his ambassador to Egypt, Jefferson Caffery, to offer the Egyptians military and economic aid. The Eisenhower administration earmarked 59

T H E A R A B – I S R A E L I P RO B L E M

$40 million to this end. At the same time, the CIA covertly helped to train Egypt’s internal security and military intelligence forces, and sent to Egypt 100 ex-German commandos for this purpose. American military aid to Egypt in fact never materialised, because under American law the Mutual Defense Assistance Act (MDAA) required that any foreign country receiving aid from her had also to accept an American military mission. But Nasser, having just triumphantly secured the end of 70 years of British occupation, could hardly now accept the presence of American troops (or ‘advisers’) on Egyptian soil. Eager as the Americans were to supply arms to Egypt, there was nothing to be done officially – notwithstanding increasingly frequent intelligence reports and open Egyptian warnings of impending, no-strings-attached Soviet arms offers. By mid-August, both the State Department and the CIA had obtained concrete evidence that the Soviets had offered to sell arms to Egypt. The Dulles brothers, John Foster and Allen (respectively heads of the State Department and of the CIA), tried in vain to circumvent the MDAA by transferring large sums of cash via CIA agents. But Nasser was offended by what he regarded as attempts to bribe him, and nothing came of these covert, essentially illegal initiatives.60 In September 1955, Nasser shocked the Arab and Western worlds with his announcement of a deal to receive unprecedented military aid from the Soviets, via their proxy, Czechoslovakia. Professor Uriel Dann, in characteristic style, has noted that the Czech arms deal combined ‘the magic of weaponry with the humiliation of yesterday’s masters and the prospect of having the best of both worlds’.61 Egypt was to receive, at half price, some 200 jet aircraft (160 MIG15 fighters and 37 Ilyushin 28 bombers); 200 medium and heavy tanks; two destroyers and three submarines, as well as heavy and light artillery pieces with their ammunition. The new arms would give Egypt a significant military advantage over Israel. They constituted a revolution in the Middle East military balance, both in quality and quantity.62 The Allies felt humiliated by Nasser’s move and were unable to reconcile themselves with his fait accompli. The British could not bear the thought of Soviet technicians stationed on airfields that they had built, to which they expected, and under the recently-signed treaty were entitled, to return to in the event of an emergency. The State Department was piqued at Nasser’s ingratitude, after all the money that they had spent, and offered to spend, on Egypt.63 The Allies’ initial reaction was to try to ‘coerce’ Nasser to abandon the deal. At the Foreign Office, Shuckburgh reacted hysterically, confiding to his diary, ‘we must try to frighten Nasser, then to bribe him, and if neither works, get rid of him’.64 In Washington, Secretary Dulles contemplated economic sanctions, such as flooding the Egyptian cotton market with US cotton, and/or cutting off all economic aid. The UK also gave consideration to sanctions that would hurt Egypt in the economic and political fields. But after the intial flush of anger subsided, the Allies opted for a wider, regional policy, rather than sanctions against Egypt or action against Nasser personally.65 The Allies now found themselves on the horns of an acute dilemma. Whether Nasser cancelled the Czech arms deal or not, he had checkmated the West. If he 60


refused to abandon the deal, and they failed to react, the rest of the Arab world would be tempted to follow his example. However, even if they did manage to persuade Nasser to abandon the deal, it would only be on condition that they supply Egypt with all the arms she asked for. That would set a precedent of blackmail for every other Arab state to follow. Jordan would probably head the list, with a demand for an increase in the annual subsidy. This would upset the Middle East balance and accelerate an arms race in the region.66 Dulles and MacMillan reconciled themselves to the fact that they would simply have ‘to live with the Czech contract’. There was no strategic or military action that the Allies could take to obviate the damage to their interests that the arms deal would cause. It was decided to seek other means to abort or offset the deal. The UK would demonstrate that it still paid to be aligned with the West by stepping up military aid to its friends in the Middle East, especially to Iraq and Jordan – though not to Israel.67 Indeed, Foreign Office antipathy focused on Israel, which Shuckburgh castigated for being at the root of all the UK’s woes in the Middle East: ‘The folly and fragility of our Palestine policy is beginning to come home to roost at last’.68 When Eliahu Elath, the Israeli ambassador, visited the Foreign Office to warn that Israel would not just sit by complacently while Nasser became militarily superior with Soviet arms, Shuckburgh upbraided him, asserting that the current situation was all Israel’s own fault for having humiliated Nasser and his army with their policy of reprisal raids. Shuckburgh confided to his diary that the UK was not about to do anything to help Israel against Egypt, and concluded that the ‘process of betraying Israel is going to be both dangerous and painful’.69 But the West’s primary concern was that the Czech arms deal would trigger a countdown to a new Middle Eastern war. In the short term, it was feared that Israel would launch a preventive war against Egypt, before its army had time to absorb the new weapons. For the longer term, if Egypt was granted the time in which to become proficient with its new weaponry, there was little doubt that the Egyphans would use it to take revenge on Israel for her humiliating defeat in 1948. British planners recommended taking immediate steps to prepare for military action against Israel should she attack Egypt. These included placing British forces in the Middle East on higher alert, sending out reinforcements from the UK; concentrating the Mediterranean Fleet in the eastern Mediterranean and, finally, seeking permission to use Jordanian, Egyptian and Lebanese military facilities in the event of hostilities.70 Shuckburgh feared that Israel would now persuade the US administration that its interests coincided with those of the West, and succeed in securing American arms.71 But the Eisenhower administration was as reluctant as the UK to supply Israel with arms, for fear of being accused of ‘choosing sides’, and thereby ‘antagonizing the whole Moslem world’. The US was also concerned that Israel might launch a preventive war. Above all, they feared that the Soviets would soon be in a position to provoke an aggression in the region that would force a disastrous American intervention – whether against Israel or against a Moslem power.72 61


Israel did indeed approach the US. Dulles reported back to the NSC that Israel had requested, armaments sufficient to match those which the Egyptians will obtain from the Soviet bloc and/or a security guarantee from the United States of the present armistice lines. Lacking one or both of these desiderata, they have implied that they might start a preventive war while still in a position to win it. (my emphasis)73 Dulles rejected the Israeli requests, hoping that the Czech arms deal was a ‘oneshot affair’. He justified this course to the NSC by the specious argument that in any case a small country such as Israel could not absorb ‘more than a certain amount of armaments’, and that the Arab States could absorb much more in the long term. But more to the point was Dulles’ reasoning that whereas the US could exert pressure on Israel, due to its financial dependence on them, there were no comparable pressures that they could apply to Egypt. On the contrary, the Arabs could retaliate to any Western sanctions by cutting off their oil supplies to Europe, upon which the continent was ‘so heavily dependent’. So Dulles suggested that the US reconcile itself to Egypt’s recent coup. The only concrete decision taken by the NSC was to adopt the recommendation of Admiral Radford, chairman of the JCS, to ‘authorize unilateral U.S. military planning for the contingency of Arab–Israel hostilities’ (on which, see chapter 9).74 Thus the Allied ‘response’ to the Czech arms deal was to make further conciliatory gestures to Egypt, in a ‘last attempt’ to keep her within the Western orbit. On the one hand it was decided to dangle financial and economic inducements before Egypt – American wheat shipments, the unfreezing of Egyptian sterling balances in London, a commitment not to dump their cotton on world markets, in competition with Egyptian cotton, and a Western loan to help build the Aswan Dam. Washington had previously made any financing of the dam conditional on Egyptian adherence to a Western defence pact. But the administration now reasoned that if Egypt committed its resources to the building of the dam, she would be left with less money to buy additional arms from the Eastern bloc, and might be distracted from her hostility to Israel and her rivalry with Iraq.75 In November 1954, the British had initiated a new peace initiative, codenamed ‘Plan Alpha’, which became an Anglo-American effort to break the impasse in the Arab–Israeli conflict. In December, Shuckburgh produced the first draft of a scheme that was designed to resolve the two primary roots of the conflict – the questions of boundaries and the Palestinian refugees. Secret Anglo-American talks on the plan began in Washington in January 1955 – between Shuckburgh and Francis Russell of the State Department. By March 1955 they had produced an agreed joint plan.76 Their draft provided for compensation and the resettlement of the Palestinian refugees, and ‘territorial adjustments’, all to be underwritten by guarantees by the UK and the US. Perhaps the most problematic, and certainly the most complex, 62


aspect of the plan was the division of Israel’s southern desert, the Negev, into ‘converging triangles’ of Egyptian, Israeli and Jordanian territory, so as to provide a land bridge between Egypt and Jordan. The base of the Egyptian triangle would rest on the Egyptian–Israeli border, and the Jordanian base on the Israeli– Jordanian border, a few miles north of Eilat. The points of these triangles were to have met on the Israeli road from Eilat to Beersheba, and been connected by a road, under full Arab sovereignty, passing either over or under the Israeli road.77 The converging triangles idea, reminiscent in some ways of the UN’s 1947 Palestine ‘egg-timer’ partition plan, was almost surreal. It provoked the postmortem comment by the British ambassador to Egypt that it ‘would not have even survived the caricaturists’.78 As early as March 1955, Foreign Secretary Eden (Prime Minister from 6 April) urged that the Allies try out Alpha on the two sides – especially in view of the volatile situation that followed the Israeli raid on Gaza in late February, and Nasser’s fury over the formation of the Baghdad Pact. The American ambassador to Egypt, Henry Byroade, tried it out on Nasser and his Foreign Minister, Mahmoud Fawzi, in early April. Nasser apparently reacted positively.79 But the very idea of imposing an Allies-guaranteed plan on the Middle East protagonists was based on a series of Western misconceptions and delusions, many the product of Shuckburgh’s fertile mind with its anachronistic weltanschaung. Shuckburgh believed that all depended upon whether the United States would be willing to exert the necessary pressure on Israel to accept territorial sacrifices in the Negev, and to give up access to the East via the Gulf of Aqaba, leaving her dependent entirely upon Egypt’s goodwill for transit of the Suez Canal. In a minute to his Foreign Office colleagues, in which he evidently felt no need to clothe his personal prejudices in euphemisms, Shuckburgh wrote: It is a question how far the Israelis, with their violence of character and their apocalyptic ideas about their place and role in the world, could be induced to buy security and peace by sacrificing a substantial part of the small territory they have conquered . . . It depends largely on political factors, here and in the United States, whether we could face the yell of pain and anguish which the Jews would let out.80 Shuckburgh feared that with the American presidential elections looming the following year, the administration would be unable to resist the Israeli demand for arms and a defence pact. That, in his opinion, would cause a ‘serious set-back in Western relations with the Arab world’. Of course, Shuckburgh never contemplated reducing the territorial concessions to be demanded of Israel. To the contrary, he believed that if Nasser proved obdurate, and the Egyptians rejected the current Alpha plan, the Allies should then produce ‘a more revolutionary territorial settlement’.81 Shuckburgh deluded himself into believing that American pressure could manipulate Israel and Egypt to do anything that the Allies wished. But Israel and 63


Egypt had their own, entirely different agendas. They both played along with the Allies for so long as they thought it would bring them economic and/or military aid. Nasser hoped also that an agreement with the West would enhance his own position there, and weaken the Baghdad Pact. But essentially, both Egypt and Israel, each for its own reasons, regarded the Alpha project as a non-starter.82 Israel was not prepared to give up any part of the Negev (which contained over half of its territory and a vital sea outlet to the Far East), not even under American pressure; and the Eisenhower administration, approaching an election year, was not about to coerce Israel. Neither was Nasser, now promoting his dual role of Arab and Third World leader, about to grant legitimacy to Israel, even if it was truncated in the south. Finally, both London and Washington deluded themselves that if they could somehow settle the Arab–Israeli conflict, the Middle East would then become a single, harmonious entity, amenable to Western plans for setting up a pro-Western military bloc. The first hint to the public about the existence of the Alpha plan was given by Dulles, in a speech before the Council on Foreign Relations in Washington, in late August 1955. On 9 November, Eden followed up with a mention in his Guildhall speech. This alarmed Israel into believing that the UK was conspiring to cut Israel back to the 1947 UN borders. On 19 September, following Nasser’s announcement of the Czech arms deal, Alpha was given top priority. At Russell’s and Shuckburgh’s initiative, one final, secret attempt was made to salvage the project. Robert Anderson, a former Deputy Secretary of Defense and a personal friend of Eisenhower’s, was appointed special presidential emissary to the Middle East, to mediate between Egypt and Israel. His mission was codenamed ‘Gamma’. He was authorised by the President to offer an ‘upgraded’ string of inducements to Nasser: apart from an Egyptian ‘triangle’ in the Negev, Egypt would receive Western finance for the Aswan Dam; aid for exporting Egyptian cotton and for the construction of a canal parallel to the one at Suez; additional generous economic aid; and a ‘freezing’ of the Baghdad Pact. In return for this enhanced package of inducements, Nasser was expected to ‘take a more constructive attitude towards peace in the area’.83 In the meantime, negotiations for Western financing of the Aswan loan began at the World Bank in November 1955. Prime Minister Eden, in receipt of a string of alarming reports from MI6 agents in Cairo, to the effect that Nasser was drawing ever closer to the Soviets, warned Eisenhower that if the Egyptian delegation left Washington empty handed, Nasser would give the project to the Soviets.84 The Aswan Dam project was expected to cost some $1.3 billion, of which Egypt would need $400 million in foreign currency. On 16 December 1955, the World Bank agreed to issue a loan for half of that amount. The UK and the US agreed in principle to underwrite the other half (80 percent and 20 percent respectively), to be paid in installments.85 From December 1955 to March 1956, Anderson conducted three rounds of shuttle diplomacy in the Middle East. But it was all to no avail and Anderson failed to produce any meeting of Egyptian and Israeli minds. By 12 March 1956, 64


Anderson was back in Washington, being debriefed on the failure of his mission. This spelled the effective end of the Alpha initiative. With the concurrent dismissal of Glubb Pasha from the command of the Arab Legion at the beginning of March, it also marked the final alienation of the British (though not the American) administration from Nasser. Shuckburgh reacted in apocalyptic tones. He warned his Foreign Office colleagues: ‘The collapse of Alpha last week has removed the lynch-pin [of our Middle East] policy.’ In his view, this had produced no less than ‘a situation of grave national emergency’. His main concern, typically, was that the tipping of the arms balance against Israel by the Czech arms deal might precipitate a Middle East war, in which the West would be ‘forced’ to side with Israel against the Arabs: If the Jews attack, then perhaps we can find a means of saving ourselves by falling upon them. But if they do not, the tension and despair of their position will grow rapidly and public opinion in the U.K. and U.S. will find it impossible not to support and arm them, despite the appalling consequences of doing so. This will destroy the Baghdad Pact and put in jeopardy our oil supplies. It will lead us direct towards a conflict, with the West supporting Israel and Russia the Arabs. In fact, unless the Israelis commit an aggression, we are becoming daily more committed to go to war against a Soviet-armed Arab world as soon as they feel strong enough or fanatical enough to attack Israel.86 With the failure of Anderson’s mission, the US decided to withdraw its financing of the Aswan Dam. The decision was not taken lightly. Counter-arguments were submitted by the CIA, which was carving out its own stakes in Nasser’s Egypt. At the end of October 1955, CIA Director Allen Dulles had tried to persuade his brother of the merits of granting American credit for the Aswan Dam, and had warned of the risks of not putting up the money: ‘Western [loan] negotiations with Nasser would be long, difficult and uncertain. If, however, the chosen alternative to this is an effort to isolate Egypt and destroy Nasser, this presents grave danger, as it would probably tempt Israel to attack Egypt’.87 However, by July 1956, a series of new developments had persuaded the administration to suspend all its conciliatory gestures towards Egypt, including its share in the financing of the Aswan Dam. Soviet arms were flowing into Egypt, her commercial ties with China were growing, and Nasser had announced the launching of an atomic energy programme, to be carried out by Soviet technicians. The administration, at the initiative of British Prime Minister, Anthony Eden, now embarked upon a new policy initiative of isolating Nasser. It received the code name Omega (see chapter 9). The West would court those Arab states close to Nasser, finance Iraqi anti-Egyptian propaganda, and upgrade American support for the Baghdad Pact, short of formally adhering to it.88 The British themselves had for some time been tryng to persuade the Americans to abandon the Aswan loan. In early May 1956, Foreign Secretary 65


Selwyn Lloyd had met with Dulles in Paris. They had agreed to allow the loan to ‘wither on the vine’. However, without further consultation with the British, the Americans decided unilaterally to cancel their participation in the loan. On 19 July 1956, Dulles brusquely informed the Egyptian ambassador in Washington of the American decision.The World Bank cancelled its participation on 23 July. Nasser’s close confidant, the journalist Mohamed Hassanein Heikal, claimed later that Nasser had known already by April that the Allies would cancel the loan. His source was supposed to have been an Iraqi Minister who had attended a Baghdad Pact meeting in March, in Teheran.89 The UK followed Dulles’s lead, and cancelled its participation in the loan on the day after Dulles’ announcement. However, the British side was taken aback by the suddeness of Dulles’s move, and peeked by the fact that the Egyptians had apparently known of it before they had. One retrospective view from inside the British Establishment reflects not only British umbrage, but also their fundamental frustrations with their senior ally: Considering our vastly greater interests in Egypt and the fact that we – and many other Powers, but least of all the Americans – were vitally interested in an enormously valuable hostage in Egytptian hands, namely the Canal, the way this cancellation was handled was an idiocy worthy of Mr. Dulles at his best.90 Nasser chose to take his ‘revenge’ against the UK, which had completed the evacuation of the last of its troops from Egypt the month before. On 26 July, he announced that he was going to nationalize the Suez Canal. The scene was set for the Suez Crisis.

66

5 THE NORTHERN TIER TAKES SHAPE

That the Cold War protagonists tried to control the behaviour of their local clients is not in question, but the degree of control they achieved ranged between the limited to the non-existent. (Yezid Sayigh, Avi Shlaim)1

Geographically, the Northern Tier of the Middle East comprised three countries – Turkey, Iran and Afghanistan. The Anatolian and Iranian plateaus were ‘separated from the valleys and plains of the Fertile Crescent by the majestic Taurus–Zagros mountain system’.2 The consummation of the Northern Tier project was determined by an array of various factors, not all of them strategic. First, Afghanistan, a backward, impenetrable country, chose to continue with its policy of non-alignment, and was never included in the Northern Tier strategic concept. Second, Dulles was so impressed by the military prowess and Western orientation of the Pakistanis that he decided to induct them into his new brainchild. The Pakistanis were in fact concerned more about India than about the Soviet Union.3 And third, Dulles’s project served also as a convenient umbrella under which the British could prolong indefinitely their tenancy of Iraq’s strategic air bases, after the termination of the Anglo–Iraqi treaty of 1930.

American ambivalence towards the Pact There has been much historical debate on the question of who really directed American foreign policy during the Eisenhower presidency – the President himself, or his powerful Secretary of State, John Foster Dulles. On questions of grand strategy, there can be little doubt that Eisenhower exercised his presidential prerogative, and no doubt that Dulles recognized and accepted his right to do so. In respect of American policy and strategy in the Middle East, Dulles played a vital role as an initiator of policies, and undoubtedly influenced the President. However, Dulles never made a major policy move without first securing the President’s approval – which was not always given. A notable example was the 67

T H E N O RT H E R N T I E R TA K E S S H A P E

Anglo-American-Arab Summit meeting on the Middle East held in London in July 1958, following the fall of the Hashemite regime in Iraq. On that occasion, Dulles used the transatlantic telephone regularly to obtain Eisenhower’s approval for new initiatives (see chapter 12). Unlike their predecessors, Eisenhower and Dulles took a direct and personal interest in the Middle East, especially in Egypt, from the very outset of their administration.4 One of Dulles’s first moves after his appointment was to tour the Middle East and South East Asia, in the Spring of 1953. The UK and the US found great difficulty in agreeing upon a common strategy for the Middle East, one that might be incorporated in their grand strategy. Notwithstanding their common interest in building up an indigenous security bloc against a Soviet occupation of the region, they each had clashing regional interests. Their continuing search for clients to join a Western-oriented Middle East defence pact provided fertile ground for mutual recrimination. In particular, each blamed the other for the series of political (and military) disasters that followed the formation of the Baghdad Pact. Much of the friction between the Allies derived from their joint failure to comprehend to the full, much less control, the long-term regional processes in which they became enmeshed. Allied relations were not helped by the fact that the personal chemistry between the key figures on each side of the Atlantic (Secretary of State Dulles; and Anthony Eden, Foreign Secretary from October 1951 to April 1955 and Prime Minister from April 1955 to January 1957) was far from ideal. Dulles the blunt lawyer and Eden the intuitive aristocrat had neither empathy nor patience for each other. Eisenhower had the utmost respect for Dulles, and depended upon him as a thorough, hard-working official. The President was quite aware that his Secretary of State was a rough diamond, a brusque man who ruffled many feathers, both at home and abroad. Perhaps one of the best insights into the Eisenhower–Dulles relationship is provided by the following British record of a private conversation between the American President and the British Prime Minister, Harold MacMillan, when the two men found themselves alone, during a brief car ride at the Bermuda Summit in March 1957. MacMillan reported back that Eisenhower had told him: Dulles was a fine man and absolutely sincere and straight, although he realised that he got on the wrong side of a lot of people. He was tremendously hard-working and the President could not do without him at all. He quite realised the feeling which had developed against him in our country, although he thought it was unfair. He said he would have to keep Dulles for at least two years.5 Dulles and Eden also aroused the misgivings and reservations of those who served them. In London, Sir Evelyn Shuckburgh, head of the Middle East desk at the Foreign Office for much of the period covered by this book, confided to his private diary in November 1955 his view of what he considered to be Eden’s 68


tendency to megalomania: It has occurred to him [Eden] that with Eisenhower sick, Adenauer sick, MacMillan and Dulles engaged with Molotov in Geneva, there is only one great man left in the world capable of giving a lead and that is himself.6 Air Chief Marshal Sir John Slessor, CAS from 1950 to 1952, who was particularly critical of Eden’s behaviour during the Suez Crisis, commented that what had disturbed him most about Eden was ‘his disturbing nonchalance about important issues’. Slessor was never sure whether Eden really understood the significance of the great issues that came before him, or had the determination to ‘see that the right thing was done’. A colleague of Slessor’s suspected that Eden was ‘more concerned with speeches than with principles’. Slessor himself thought that Eden’s behaviour during the Suez Crisis was ‘quite incomprehensible’, and concluded, ‘he is really a sick man. But I am afraid that he is also a weak man, suddenly stung into quite disproportionately strong action, as weak men sometimes are.’7 Dulles aroused like sentiments among those who worked for him. The memoirs of the American ambassador to Iraq, Waldemar J. Gallman (1954–58), afford an enlightening insight into their working relations. Gallman recalled that the Secretary’s ‘powerful intellect’ had endowed him with ‘an extraordinary degree of self-confidence’. These qualities, Gallman added, ‘made him a forbidding figure’ that tended to ‘paralyze thought and action all through the State Department’. Dulles’s obdurate refusal to take the US into the Baghdad Pact was only one of several issues that aroused the ire of officials at the State Department, of the ambassadors serving in the Middle East and, later, also of the officers serving at the Pentagon.8 Dulles had served as a captain in Military Intelligence during World War One, and became convinced of the the value of using the intelligence services on diplomatic missions: ‘Covert intelligence operations could both guide and complement the activities of our diplomats.’9 Dulles was able to pursue the dual path that he did only because of his and his brother’s unique combination at the helm of the State Department and of the CIA. This led to what has been called ‘cryptodiplomacy’ playing such a significant role in American foreign policy during the 1950s.10 He made extensive ‘diplomatic’ use of the CIA in Cairo. The Egyptians were somewhat bewildered by having to deal with what they termed ‘two Americas’, ‘one the America of Secretary of State John Foster Dulles and the other the America of his brother, Allen Dulles of the Central Intelligence Agency.11 Dulles claimed later that the UK had ‘hijacked’ his Northern Tier scheme, and ‘run it as an instrument of British policy’.12 He also claimed, disingenuously, that the UK had spoiled his Northern Tier project by inducting Iraq into it, thereby encumbering Western defence plans with the Arab–Israeli conflict. The fact is that at the time, Washington deemed Iraqi membership to be especially useful, since Iraq had no common border with Israel.13 In effect, it was Nasser’s vehement and apparently un-anticipated opposition to the Baghdad Pact – not the 69


Arab–Israeli conflict – that would give Dulles pause for thought. Until 1956, the Eisenhower administration still hoped to mobilize Nasser into the Western camp. For his part Eden complained later about US machinations against the UK in the Middle East in general, and in Egypt in particular, and that the Americans had failed to join the pact that Dulles himself had inspired. In his memoirs, Eden insinuated that American actions had been part of a grand plan to undermine and usurp the UK’s position in the region: The United States sometimes failed to put its weight behind its friends, in the hope of being popular with its foes . . . Worse still, they tried to take credit for their attitude in capitals like Cairo, which were hostile to the pact.14 As will be seen below, the records show clearly that it was Secretary Dulles himself who in 1953 initiated the first moves to create a Northern Tier security bloc. Equally, it is indisputable, notwithstanding Dulles’s later disclaimers, that initially he was most eager to see Iraq in the new pact, and actively urged her to join. Ironically, the US itself never joined the Pact. Dulles imposed a veto, for domestic political reasons. He resisted not only the pleas of the Pact members themselves, but those of his own JCS, and of his own diplomats serving in the field. On the other hand, the British joined the Iraqi–Turkish initiative with alacrity, notwithstanding their initial scepticism about the American initiative.15 During the first half of the 1950s the American military had vigorously opposed any military commitment to the Middle East.16 But their attitude underwent a radical change during the course of 1955, as the Baghdad Pact took shape. In June 1955, the JCS conceded that should a Northern Tier pact be established and prove itself viable, the US would not be able to abstain indefinitely from joining it. However, they also expressed their official opposition ‘to the establishment now, or in the future, of a ME defense organization with an elaborate superstructure patterned along the lines of NATO’. They also opposed any American sponsorship of ‘combined planning by constituent countries and consideration of command arrangements’. Their reasons remained the same as during the early 1950s – apprehension that any American military commitment in the Middle East would involve them in obligations beyond their current ability to meet.17 But the Czech Arms Deal to Egypt of September 1955 changed everything. In November of that year, an American Intelligence report warned that any backsliding by the US, or even the abandoning of the Pact, would be interpreted regionally as ‘a major retreat by the West under pressure from the USSR’. The probable effect on Turkey, their major ally in the region, would be serious: [Turkey] would probably consider that it had sustained a serious blow to its prestige and some loss to its defensive position. It would be unlikely to turn toward neutralism while its territorial integrity remained guaranteed by NATO but it would attempt to compensate by asking for increased US military assistance.18 70


From the beginning of 1956 the JCS began to press unequivocally for early American adherence to the Pact. In January, in recognition of the growing importance of the Middle East and in order to fill the gap in this theatre of operations, the JCS established a new subcommittee, the Joint Middle East Planning Committee (JMEPC).19 Following a tour of the Middle and Far East in January 1956, which covered the member states of the Pact, Admiral Radford, chairman of the JCS, lobbied for direct American involvement in the Pact. He feared that even though no American forces were earmarked for deployment in the Middle East in the event of war, the US was rapidly becoming committed to strategic conceptions and military plans drafted by the Pact’s institutions – upon the drafting of which they, the Americans, had but little influence. In February 1956, Radford told a joint conference of the JCS and State Department officials that: The U.S. will have to pick up the price tag in any event and . . . if the U.K. has provided poor or wrong leadership with respect to planning, we will have little grounds to criticize the decisions if we have not taken part in the planning activities.20 The JCS cautioned that only by joining the Pact as full members could they hope to ensure that the Allies’ contingency plans for war in the Middle East would be realistic and acquire some relation to the forces actually available to execute them. Secretary for Defense Wilson, who supported his chiefs’ demands, warned that without the Americans on board, the Pact might even disintegrate.21 In April 1956, at a meeting of the Pact’s Ministerial Council in Teheran, several Moslem leaders told the American observer, Loy Henderson, of their fears that the Americans were perhaps working on some form of a rapprochement with the Soviets behind their backs.22 Loy Henderson was a significant advocate of early American adherence to the Pact. He had served as Director of NEA, and head of the Palestine desk at the State Department during the late 1940s. After falling foul of the Zionist lobby, he was ‘exiled’ from Washington, and served as ambassador to India (1948 to 1951), and Iran (1951 to 1954). In January 1955, he returned to Washington, as Deputy Secretary of State for Administration.23 With this background and experience, he was a natural choice to represent his country as observer at the meetings of the various institutions of the Baghdad Pact. Henderson reported back on the Teheran meeting to a joint meeting of State Department officials and the JCS. The Pact’s members had expressed their ‘puzzlement’ over the US’s failure to join. They had warned that although they were pro-Western, their position was being undermined by the ‘evangelical neutralists’ – Nasser and Nehru. Whereas Nasser was about to receive substantial Western aid for the Aswan Dam project, Turkey and Iraq, who considered themselves to be good allies of the West, were facing economic difficulties. The Pact leaders relaxed somewhat when the US showed its readiness to participate as observers at the Pact’s various committees (economic, military and counter-subversion) that were set up in Teheran. They also reacted enthusiastically 71


when the US announced the stationing of a permanent flag officer in Baghdad for military liaison with the Pact. However, all this still fell short of formal American adherence. Henderson warned that their position in the Middle East and Asia was anomalous. The US was not yet a member of the Pact but, in his opinion, without the Pact they ‘would be in a bankrupt position in the Middle East’. JCS chairman Radford, who had also attended the Teheran meeting, concurred. The JCS needed to set up some unified command in the Middle East, but the problem was where to locate it. If they joined the Pact, they would have a natural base for it.24 Pleas for American adherence to the Pact were issued also by officers in the field, exasperated by the anomalies of their ‘observer’ status. From Baghdad, ambassador Gallman warned against the US becoming committed any further without receiving equal rights inside the Pact. Although as observers they had a voice on the various committees, they had no vote on the final decisions that were taken in the Pact’s Council. In exasperation, Gallman lectured Washington that the US should either join the Pact, or ‘disentangle’ itself.25 However, notwithstanding the plethora of cogent argument in favour of American adherence to the Pact, Secretary Dulles and the State Department vetoed it. The department believed that the administration would be unable to straddle the political hurdle posed by the American Congress. In June 1955, a State Department – JCS working group had concluded that should the administration decide to join the Pact, they would fail to secure sufficient votes in the Senate unless they simultaneously offered a security pact to Israel. But any formal link with Israel would prove fatal to American interests in the Arab world. The JCS and the State Department at least agreed in their opposition to assuming any military commitment to Israel.26 Dulles calculated that if the Administration submitted to the Congress an application for the US to join the Pact, and the Senate rejected it, the repercussions upon the Pact would be far more injurious than if they failed at this juncture to declare their intention of joining. He also feared that given the inter-Arab power struggle between Egypt and Iraq, American adherence to the Pact might provoke accusations that they were fostering dissension within the Arab world.27 Dulles was characteristically candid with the British on this issue. At a meeting with Prime Minister Eden and his Foreign Secretary Lloyd in January 1956, at which Eisenhower was also present, Dulles warned that the US could not join them in the Baghdad Pact until there was an Arab–Israeli peace settlement, and that it was ‘politically impossible for the United States to join the Baghdad Pact unless they made some comparable pact with Israel. A Palestine settlement would remove this difficulty.’28 His comment served only to reinforce Whitehall’s preconceptions about Jewish influence in the American capital.

The Pakistan–Turkish Pact The origins of the Baghdad Pact may in fact be traced to the conclusions drawn by Secretary Dulles from his tour of the Near and Middle East, and of South East Asia from 9–29 May 1953. During this tour, Dulles became convinced that it was futile to 72


continue trying to base Western plans for the defence of the Middle East on Egypt. He concluded that the officers’ regime in that country (which had seized power in July 1952) was preoccupied with two major national projects: first, to secure the evacuation of all British troops from Egyptian soil; and second, to reverse the results of the first Arab–Israeli war of 1948, in which the Arab states, Egypt in particular, had been humiliated by the Israelis. Dulles concluded that the defence of the Middle East, with its rich oil reserves, should be built upon defence ties with those states that formed the Northern Tier of the Middle East – Turkey, Iraq, Iran and Pakistan. In Dulles’s opinion, those states were concerned more with the dangers of Soviet encroachment or invasion than with Western colonialism, or the State of Israel.29 There was a strong strategic rationale behind the new concept, since an almost continuous mountain line ran along the borders of the Northern Tier countries, protecting the Middle East against a possible Soviet offensive. This line ran from the Taurus mountains in Turkey in the West, to the Zagros mountains along the Iraqi–Iranian border in the east, to Bandar Abbas. There were a limited number of passes which gave access through these mountain ranges to the Middle East: these were from the west, the Cilician Gates in Turkey, eastwards to the Malatya, Ruwandiz, Senna, Paitak and Khurrammabad passes (see Map 1).30 During his 1953 tour of the Middle East and South East Asia, Dulles was impressed above all by two countries – Turkey and Pakistan. The US would act as godfather in encouraging the Turks to establish military links with Pakistan, as the first stage in the foundation of the Northern Tier security pact.31 For centuries Turkey had been the object of Soviet encroachment and conquest. Turkey had remained neutral during World War Two, but after the war, following Soviet demands for bases along the Straits, it had opted decisively for the Western camp. The Turks’ military potential took on increasing significance as British strength in the region waned. American aid to the Turks moved the latter squarely into the American sphere of interest, even if, as noted incisively by a recent study, successive Labour and Conservative administrations in the UK deluded themselves that ‘London would still be able to command strategic decisions regarding Turkey, while the Americans were paying the bills and the Turks danced to an Allied tune orchestrated by Britain.’32 By 1950, the Turks’ 19 infantry divisions, trained and equipped by the Americans, were already regarded by the Allies as a key strategic asset in the context of strategic planning for the Middle East.33 The Turks never failed to remind the Americans of their strategic assets. For instance, in July 1952, Turkish Foreign Minister Köprülü repeated to the American ambassador to Turkey, George McGhee, what would soon become a familiar mantra: The defence of the Middle East was essentially the defence of Turkey, since Turkish forces constituted the bulwark of regional defence and since the Soviets would be forced to attack Turkey or neutralise it before launching an attack on Iran and Iraq. Thus . . . the most effective way to increase the defence capability of the Middle East was to increase the strength of Turkish forces.34 73


At their meeting in May 1953, Adnan Menderes, the Turkish Prime Minister, told Secretary Dulles: Turkey has one of the longest frontiers with Russia and is, so to speak, in the same bed with her . . . without Turkey, ‘the question of Middle East defense would merely lie in theory’.35 The Turks found a ready convert in George Mcghee, an ex-Middle East hand at the State Department, who served as ambassador to Turkey from January 1951 to June 1953. McGhee became an unabashed Turcophil: he encouraged the Turks’ regional ambitions and groomed them for their future role of regional leader. McGhee went so far as to tell the Turkish leaders, President Bayar, Prime Minister Menderes and Foreign Minister Köprülü, that Turkey and the US had similar roles, respectively as leaders of the Eastern and the Western hemispheres: Both Turkey and the United States were the natural leaders of their respective regions and were fundamentally oriented toward Europe . . . both countries lived among smaller, weaker and highly nationalistic countries that were extremely sensitive to questions of independence and prestige.36 The US considered Turkey to be ‘the most powerful nation in the Eastern Mediterranean’ and a key US foothold in the region, especially since Turkey had common borders with the Soviet Union. Since 1947, Turkey had received extensive American aid under the Truman Doctrine. An NSC policy paper written in February 1955 defined Turkey’s unique geo-political significance: Turkey’s location – astride the water passage from the Black Sea to the Mediterranean and the most direct land routes from the USSR to Suez, adjoining the Soviet Transcaucasus, and within close air range of much of the USSR – makes her orientation of vital importance to both the Western and Soviet blocs.37 Indeed, the US received substantial strategic returns on the aid she sent to Turkey under the Truman Doctrine. Secret agreements signed in the early 1950s provided both the USAF and the US Navy with base facilities and storage centres. Especially important was the air base at Inçerlik, near Adana, developed by the US to accommodate rotating units of the Strategic Air Command (SAC). An agreement between the two countries signed in 1957 granted the US the right to station in Turkey tactical aircraft armed with nuclear weapons. In the event of general war, SAC bases in Turkey would afford the Americans an effective platform (even closer in than Egypt) for strategic air strikes against the Soviet Union.38 Some American officials tried to promote Pakistan as having ‘by far the greatest military potential of any country east of Turkey’. George McGhee, the Turcophile ambassador in Istanbul, became the conduit through which Turkey was encouraged to forge military ties with Pakistan. The two countries were already linked by a treaty of friendship, signed on 26 July 1951. At a meeting with Turkey’s leaders in 74


November 1952 (one week after Eisenhower had defeated Truman for the presidency), McGhee told them that Pakistan, with a population of 80 million, a strong army and good economic prospects, would make a strong ally. He reported that the Pakistanis were anxious to nurture closer ties with Turkey, ‘especially in the military field’. He confided to them that the Pakistanis wanted the Turks to ‘press them hard on this issue, which would make it easier politically for them to accept’.39 Secretary Dulles had been received warmly in Pakistan during his 1953 tour, perhaps because the arrival of massive shipments of American wheat just prior to his visit had averted a famine.40 On his return to Washington, he reported on the ‘appearance and spirit’ of the Pakistani army and their leaders, and judged that ‘Pakistan is one country that has the moral courage to do its part in resisting communism’.41 Dulles’ views conflicted with British assessments, which maintained that the Pakistani army ‘had neither the training nor the requisite equipment’.42 Wilbur Crane Eveland, a CIA agent serving at the time in the Middle East, has given support to the British view, alleging that the gullible Dulles was duped: In Pakistan, Dulles saw a unit of splendidly uniformed, turban topped Pathan lancers [flown in expressly for the occasion] on parade. Each man appeared at least seven feet tall . . . the secretary of state came away convinced that this army of giants should be given weapons. Such warriors, he was certain, could stem the Red hordes.43 In July 1953, Dulles informed American missions in the Near and Middle East of American sponsorship of the new Northern Tier concept. Those states that agreed to join the new bloc would be induced collectively with $50 million in US aid. He predicted that Pakistan would join any defence scheme that the West set up in the Middle East, and recommended that the administration should not make American military aid to Pakistan conditional on the prior signing of a formal defence agreement.44 Dulles’ Northern Tier concept fell on receptive ears in Washington. The Near Eastern division of the State Department (NEA) recognized the idea as ‘the classic British plan which has never been embraced by our own Joint Chiefs’. The new course was reinforced by reports received the previous summer concerning the Shah of Iran’s interest in receiving American military aid, in order to build up ‘an effective defense force’. The Joint Chiefs commissioned a Joint Planning Staff working group to study the idea of a Northern Tier four-power pact. In November 1953, the group recommended concentrating all military aid funds on building up Iraq, Iran and Pakistan (Turkey was already on the American military payroll). The Joint Chiefs were now ready to begin ‘a real military build up’, as soon as ‘a regional defense arrangement [was] in being which would make possible joint planning of the Western Powers with the Middle East States’.45 But Dulles determined that American sponsorship of the new concept was to remain strictly covert. Having singed their fingers on previous, abortive defence 75


pacts in the Middle East (MEC and MEDO), state officials insisted that any future security arrangements in the region must appear, at least on the surface, to be based upon indigenous initiatives. This was intended to avoid their being marked with ‘the stigma of being under direct Western control’.46 The first step in setting up the new system was to be the establishment of a Turkish–Pakistani security pact. In September 1953, Pakistan’s military leaders made the first overtures for American military aid. In interviews with New York Times correspondent Hangen, who passed on the information to the US embassy in Ankara, General Ayub Khan, the commander of Pakistan’s army, and Pakistan’s Defence Secretary both expressed interest in a ‘northern Middle East defense pact’. They agreed to base the pact on Turkey and Pakistan, but expressed reservations about Iran’s early adherence, due to the latter’s weakness. Predictably, Pakistan made it quite clear that a prerequisite for her adherence would be American military and economic aid. Shortly after, the Pakistani commanderin-chief visited Washington, and allegedly returned home with a tacit assurance of $25 million in military aid.47 On 12 October 1953, Henry Byroade, the US assistant secretary of state, met with General Khan and presented him with the US’s military aid programme for Pakistan. The first arms shipments to Pakistan were to begin before the end of the year, before the latter signed any agreements.48 Dulles urged the Turks to pursue the initiative with Pakistan. He advised them not to conclude a ‘binding military alliance’, which might conflict with their obligations to NATO; but rather a ‘looser arrangement’, that would permit ‘consultation and joint defense planning’. Dulles reminded McGhee’s replacement in Ankara, Avra Warren, that the US would not be taking any public initiative.49 By mid-January 1954, following further contacts with the Turks, Dulles was able to inform Eisenhower that Turkey had ‘agreed to take the initiative in the formation of a security pact with Pakistan’. The new pact was to be set up in such a manner that other states, ‘particularly Iran and Iraq’ would be able to join later on. Eisenhower agreed to begin sending military aid to Pakistan, notwithstanding warnings by his own officials and by the British about objections to be expected from Indian Prime Minister Nehru.50 In January 1954, the American ambassador in Karachi was authorized to give the Pakistanis an official, albeit secret, advance commitment to supply military aid, within the frame of the new pact. Prior to any public announcement, the Iraqis would also be sounded out in regard to their readiness to join the new pact. The US would ‘comment favorably’ on the Turkish–Pakistani public communiqué announcing the new pact, in a fashion consistent with her policy of ‘emphasizing the indigenous character’ of the new creation.51 On 19 February 1954, Turkey and Pakistan announced their intention of signing a mutual defence pact. Following the official signature (on 2 April), a ‘mutual assistance defense agreement’ with the US was to be negotiated, and an American military mission dispatched to Pakistan to survey her military needs and to recommend a military-aid programme.52 The Pakistan–US military-aid agreement 76


was signed on 19 May 1954. American officials were again warned not to make any public comments that might indicate that their government ‘had played a prominent role in promoting’ the new pact.53 Iraq, also seeking military aid from the US, took a close interest in American moves along the Northern Tier. In March 1954, an Iraqi government mission, including the Regent and Nuri Said, visited Pakistan. Upon his return, Nuri reported to the American ambassador in Baghdad that the Pakistan army was ‘admirable’, and its ‘military training excellent’. Nuri’s judgement confirmed Dulles’s own assessment of the previous year, as it was no doubt intended to. When asked by the American ambassador under what circumstances Iraq would join the new pact, Nuri retorted, ‘you planned that from the beginning for how else could Pakistan assist Turkey except through Iraq?’ Nuri suggested that the terms of the pact be modified so that ‘an unprovoked attack on Iraq or its neighbors would bring the military aspect of the pact into play’.54 The UK shied away from the Asian axis of the Americans’ Northern Tier initiative. The latter’s courting of Pakistan had provoked consternation at the Foreign Office since 1951. The UK was perturbed by its ally’s intrusion upon its Middle Eastern bailiwick.55 The US had now stage-managed the latest pact between Turkey and Pakistan without so much as consulting its British ally. British resentment was due not only to pique at what they saw as American trespassing on what had been until then a British hegemony. The UK also feared that the new Pact, which the US was now encouraging Iraq to join, might arouse the wrath of Colonel Nasser, Nuri Said’s rival for the leadership of the Arab world. In the summer of 1954, the UK still hoped to improve her relations with Egypt following the signature of the Canal Base evacuation agreement. Some indication of the nature of Anglo-American relations at the official level, and of the tensions between the civilian and military levels of the two governments is given in the memoirs of Wilbur Crane Eveland. Eveland served on an American military mission headed by General Harry F. Meyers, which was sent out to Pakistan shortly after the Turkish–Pakistani communiqué. At the instigation of Winthrop Aldrich, the American ambassador to the UK, the mission broke its journey in London. Aldrich reassured the British that the American team would first consult them on what military equipment the US would buy for Pakistan under the offshore procurement programme. When the British delegation, which included over 20 government officials and several generals, asked the Americans how much Pakistan had to spend, and told them what weapons the British could sell, General Meyers replied curtly that their budget was a secret, and that they (the American mission) would decide with the Pakistanis what equipment the latter would buy for their army. With that, General Meyers declared that the meeting was thereby concluded, and marched his team out, leaving behind them a room full of ‘stunned British brass and civil servants!’56 In Pakistan, the Meyers’ mission witnessed the level of the Pakistanis’ military training and readiness for war at first hand. At Peshawar, headquarters of Pakistan’s armoured corps, a brigade of ‘glistening and immaculate tanks’ was 77


lined up for inspection. But when General Meyers asked General Ayub to parade them, fully two-thirds failed to move.57 In September 1954, Pakistan joined the US as one of the founding members of the South East Asia Treaty Organisation (SEATO). Again, Eveland’s reflections are worth quoting here, as an indication of the military’s view of Dulles’s propensity for setting up alliance systems around the Soviet Union: I thought back to Pakistan and wondered just who was fooling whom in these games of collective security, regional defense and competitions to build up local military forces . . . did those State Department ‘experts’ and ambassadors who urged military-aid programs really understand anything about equipping armies? Hadn’t Foster Dulles been taken in by visions of seven-foot Pathan lancers stemming the Red hordes?58 Official Washington patronized its Atlantic ally, whom they now regarded as a debilitated colonial power. However, the UK still provided the major Allied military presence in the Middle East, and as such, the US had no choice but to try to work with it. American ambivalence was summarized succinctly by NSC 5428, a policy paper defining American objectives in the Middle East, written in July 1954: Efforts to prevent the loss of the Near East will require increasing responsibility, initiative, and leadership by the United States in the area. Even though British and French influence in the Near East has declined, the UK retains substantial interest, experience, and security positions, so that the United States will need to act in concert with the United Kingdom to the greatest extent practicable, while reserving the right to act with others (e.g. France and Turkey) or alone.59 Informed of recent developments by the Turks, and later by the Iraqis, the UK could appreciate the logic in setting up the Northern Tier, ‘in order to provide an extension to the right flank of NATO and to justify the grant of military aid to Pakistan’. But the British feared that American support for Pakistan would alienate India, which might retaliate by denying to the Allies strategically vital facilities. The Foreign Office officials inveighed against the Americans’ ‘meddling’: Courting Pakistan with her well-advertised military weakness, simply to ‘plug the gap in the Middle East’, would push India unnecessarily into adopting a hostile stance...The Americans could be ‘very rash and stupid about these things’, but their ‘immature oscillations’ in South Asia could not be allowed to undermine Great Britain’s interests in the region.60 The only exception that Dulles had allowed himself to the rule of keeping a low profile in the promotion of the new security pact, was in encouraging Iraq to join 78


Turkey and Pakistan. On 21 April 1954, the US signed a military aid agreement with Iraq. Dulles justified this overt move on the grounds that the strategic stakes in Iraq were high. The amount of American military aid to be granted was made contingent upon the effectiveness of ‘Iraqi participation in area defense plans which promised to contribute to the security of the region’.61 Notwithstanding this agreement with the Americans, Nuri Said also approached the British. In June 1954, he invited them to join a new Middle Eastern defence pact. He intimated that the new grouping might serve as an umbrella for the UK’s continued tenure of the strategic air bases in Iraq. But the UK had reservations about Nuri Said entering any Middle East defence combination. The Foreign Office feared that the precedent of American pressure on London to close a deal with the Egyptians would be repeated now with Iraq. If Iraq joined Turkey and Pakistan, with American support from the wings, the Iraqi position on renewing the military facilities that the British currently enjoyed at the air bases would harden.62 The UK also suspected Nuri of trying to play off the Allies against each other. It therefore approached the US, seeking agreement on the coordination of all Allied arms sales to Iraq. The Americans agreed. At British prompting, Nuri was told by the US that arms deliveries would depend both upon progress towards the Northern Tier pact, and continued permission for the UK to use Iraq’s base facilities, in any revision of their treaty.63 The Allies may have been working towards the same ultimate goal in the Middle East, but along independent axes. There was an iron logic in the Northern Tier approach, especially after the UK’s decision to evacuate her Suez Canal Base. Both Allies knew that the new strategic concept made no military sense unless all of the four Northern Tier states were included in the same pact. But each of the Allies harboured reservations about the other’s standing and interests in the region, and neither kept the other fully informed of its own initiatives there. This situation was tailor-made for exploitation by the indigenous states.

Nuri Said’s ‘Arab’ initiative: the Sersank talks On 4 August 1954, the day he returned to power as Prime Minister of Iraq, Nuri Said issued a statement of his government’s policy, in which foreign affairs figured prominently. On the one hand, Nuri recognized the need for an alliance with Turkey and Iran, if only to contain the Kurds, a dynamic minority that threatened the internal cohesion of all three countries. However, if Iraq now joined the Turkish–Pakistani grouping, she ‘would be cut off from the Arabs rather than leading them’. He was still looking for a scheme in which Iraq would be the pivot around which a grand alliance of Arabs, Northern Tier states and the Western Allies would coalesce. Nuri had periodically floated various versions of his ‘Fertile Crescent’ federation scheme since the 1930s. In 1951, he had protested that only Egypt had been offered founder-member status in the MEC. Now, without first consulting either 79


of his Western sponsors, he took another initiative and tried to entice Colonel Nasser into yet another of his pan-Arab schemes, under Iraqi leadership.64 On 13 August 1954, Nuri Said met with the Egyptian minister of national guidance, Major Salah Salim (one of the group of Free Officers that had overthrown the ancien regime in Egypt) at the Iraqi royal summer resort at Sersank. The meeting was intended to bring about a reconciliation between the two regimes, and to produce ‘a unified policy on Arab–Western relations, including the question of regional defense’.65 Major Salem and Nuri agreed on the main principles of establishing a regional defence pact, but within the frame of the Arab Collective Security Pact (ACSP), formed in 1950. Nuri planned that the UK should join the new pact either at the outset or soon after. The US, Turkey, Pakistan and perhaps France might join at a later stage. Under the Nuri–Salem plan, the Arabs would not be required to fight beyond their own borders. By way of a sweetener, Nuri led the Foreign Office to believe that once the pact was signed, Egypt would agree also to the reactivation of the Suez Canal Base in the event of an attack on Iran (soon to join the Northern Tier pact).66 The British were inclined initially to welcome Nuri’s initiative, with its promise of a lessening of the tensions between Iraq and Egypt. Nuri also convinced the US chargé d’affaires in Baghdad, P.W. Ireland. He told Ireland that following the signature of the agreement with the UK to evacuate the Canal Base, the Egyptians now appeared to be more amenable to cooperation with the West, and that the ALSP could provide the basis for a new MEDO, to which the US and the UK, as well as Turkey, Iran and Pakistan, might adhere later.67 While conceding that Nuri’s current initiative was disappointing, in view of his earlier support for the Turkish–Pakistani pact, Ireland suggested to the State Department that the new démarche had the advantage of committing Egypt to the West. Humouring Dulles, Ireland also lauded the ‘valuable psychological advantages in Arab States because of its (the proposed initiatives) indigenous origin’.68 Ireland may have thought that Nuri’s initiative was in line with Dulles’s ‘low profile’ policy, but he did not apparently comprehend fully the subtleties of the Secretary of State’s fertile mind. Dulles had never intended that the indigenous states of the region should act on their own initiative, without first consulting the US. He was determined to manipulate the Middle East players, even if from the wings. Dulles was in fact ‘greatly disturbed’ at the embryonic Iraqi–Egyptian pact, which conflicted with his own pet project of resting the defence of the region upon the Northern Tier, with the Turkish–Pakistani pact as the first building block. The Americans also suspected that the British were supporting, if they hadn’t actually inspired, the new concept, which would make ‘the Arab League rather than the Turk–Pakistan Pact the principal vehicle for a regional defense arrangement’.69 But Dulles’ main problem with Nuri’s new initiative was the reaction it was likely to draw from the Zionist lobby in Washington, a powerful force in the US Congress. He had agreed to give military aid to Iraq the previous April, as part of American support for the Northern Tier countries. Domestic opposition to the arms agreement had been calmed by Iraq’s promise to use the arms ‘solely to 80


maintain its internal security and its legitimate self-defense’ and not to commit aggression against any other state. Dulles now feared that American military aid would be used to arm the Arab League for a second round against Israel. He even considered cancelling the military aid to Iraq, under a provision that allowed the US to review its position in the light of the changing international situation.70 The UK agreed that a purely Northern Tier combination was likely to be less offensive to Israel than an Arab League military pact. Such a pact might also meet the RAF’s requirements in Iraq for air bases. However, the Turkish–Pakistani pact did not yet include any plans for military cooperation, and the British were still waiting to receive Nuri’s terms regarding the military facilities he was proposing to offer them ‘under the cover of a multilateral pact’.71 Dulles was saved from having to ‘review’ the arms sales to Iraq, as the Sersank agreement was rejected summarily by Nasser. Major Salem had gone beyond his brief, and was outmanoeuvred by Nuri. Instead of Nuri endorsing Nasser’s plan for a purely Arab pact, Salem had agreed to link an Arab defence pact to the Allies. Indeed, before returning to Cairo, Salem had even met the British and American chargés in Baghdad, and announced that he would be in touch with their embassies in Cairo. But shortly after his return to the Egyptian capital, Major Salem was despatched by Nasser on a month’s leave of absence.72 Nuri made one last effort to promote his initiative. He travelled to Cairo on 15 September to meet with Nasser in person. But Nasser was intransigent. He had yet to consolidate his own position in Egypt. He would make no move before the last British soldier had left the country. Moreover, he regarded Nuri Said as a Western stooge, and saw his proposal as a threat to draw Syria and Jordan into Baghdad’s orbit. Nasser wanted to set up an exclusively Arab defence pact, under his own leadership.73 With the failure of the Sersank talks, Nuri Said’s Iraq was set irrevocably on a collision course with Nasser’s Egypt. Nuri Said represented the traditonal, conservative Pasha class, who since World War One had collaborated with the British. In stark contrast, Colonel Nasser was the epitome of the younger generation: radical, frequently from the officer class, set on liberating the Arab world from the yoke of Western imperialism. Their struggle for hegemony over the Arab world was a further round in an historical struggle between ‘rival centers of power’. Since the Middle Ages, Egypt had outstripped Iraq decisively, by virtue of its ‘superior numbers and economic resources’.74 This current round of their historic rivalry would end just four years later with the downfall of Nuri’s regime and the Hashemite monarchy in July 1958. At the close of 1954, neither the US nor the UK could have foreseen this development, although much of the writing was already visible on the wall. The UK now found itself on the horns of an acute dilemma, reluctant to take sides between the two Arab rivals. Having made what they felt were great concessions to reach an evacuation agreement with Egypt, the British still hoped to reap their reward, in the form of improved relations. They also feared Egyptian violence during the 18-month period of the run-down and evacuation of their 81


troops and stores, should Nasser choose to invoke sanctions against the UK for preferring Iraq. But on the other hand, they felt that Nuri Said was now their greatest friend in the region. They dared not do anything that would ‘weaken his hand’, by any hint that they were ‘luke-warm’ in his support.75 During the course of 1954, the US was less prescient and less anxious than the UK about Nasser’s reaction to Iraq’s adherence to any extra-Arab pact. American officials in the region believed that Nasser could be appeased by persuading him that the new strategic concept would not detract from the importance attached by the US to Egypt’s own strategic and military assets – its bases, communications and manpower. They hoped also that continued American military and economic aid would purchase Egypt’s loyalty to the West.76 They conceded that prior to an agreement on the Suez Canal Base, Egyptian opposition would present a serious obstacle to any Arab state joining the Turkish–Pakistani pact. However, they also believed, somewhat naively, that once a satisfactory agreement was reached on Suez, Egypt would in effect ‘be involved in regional defense and much of its opposition to Western-supported regional defense arrangements . . . undercut’. They also worked on the assumption that Iraq would probably join the new Northern Tier pact, notwithstanding Egyptian opposition.77 The UK believed that American overtures to Nuri Said did not take fully into account Egyptian sensitivities, and the chronic instability of the Arab world. The British believed that the Americans had deluded themselves into believing that Nasser would now cooperate with the West. Not only that, but the UK still believed that any defence arrangements for the Middle East would have little value without Egyptian participation. So the British decided to take a back seat for the present, if only to ensure that if the new policy failed, they would not incur the blame.78 All this left the initiative in the hands of the indigenous players. The next move would be made by Turkey, although only after consultation with the UK.

The Iraqi–Turkish Pact In October 1954, Dulles directed the incoming American ambassador to Iraq, Waldemar J. Gallman, to make yet another effort to persuade Nuri Said to join a Northern Tier combination. Gallman’s mission was inconclusive. However, Turkish Prime Minister Adnan Menderes, ‘dangling the bait of increased US military aid’ (although he had no authorisation to do so), was more successful. Nuri Said visited Istanbul in late October, and the two premiers announced that they would ‘create a security front in the Middle East without delay, on condition of complete equality’.79 Prime Minister Menderes paid a reciprocal visit to Baghdad from 6 to 14 January 1955, in order to close their bilateral deal. Behind the scenes the UK acted in the role of godfather to the new union. On a visit to the Foreign Office before Menderes’s visit, the Secretary General of the Turkish Ministry of Foreign Affairs agreed to brief his Prime Minister to work for the extension of British military 82


rights at Iraq’s strategic air bases after the expiration of the 1930 treaty. The British quid pro quo was to encourage Nuri to join the Northern Tier pact, notwithstanding Egyptian opposition. At the end of Menderes’s visit, the two premiers issued a joint communiqué, pledging the two countries to sign a pact that would provide for joint action in the event of either internal or external aggression.80 Until the issue of the Nuri–Menderes communiqué in late January 1955, British officials remained sceptical about any agreement between the two countries, due to long-standing Iraqi apprehensions about Turkish irredentism. Notwithstanding piecemeal knowledge of the impending agreement, the West was still taken by surprise (according to the Dulles master plan, the Iraqis should have joined the Turkish–Pakistani pact). The Northern Tier defence system, in embryo, had suddenly taken on a concrete form.81 The Iraqi–Turkish agreement raised the level of the feud between Nuri Said and Nasser to fever pitch. The Officers’ Regime in Egypt, via its sophisticated propaganda machine, unleashed violent attacks against Iraq in general, and against Nuri in person. On 22 January 1955, Nasser convened a conference of Arab premiers at Cairo to discuss regional defence. Nuri Said refused to attend, pleading ill health. Nasser insisted that the premiers condemn the new pact, and threatened that if Nuri went through with his plans, Egypt would leave the ALCSP and set up a new pact, whose members would be only those Arab states that refused to enter foreign alliances. But most of the Arab delegations (apart from Saudi Arabia and the Yemen) refused to bow to Egyptian pressure, and the conference ended in disarray on 6 February.82 Initially, the State Department reacted favourably to the new Iraqi–Turkish combination. At a press conference Dulles gave on 18 January he described it as: ‘a very constructive development . . . toward building up the so-called “northern tier” of which Turkey and Pakistan are already the pioneers’.83 Indeed, the State Department even expressed concern lest the UK was cooling off towards the emerging Northern Tier defence pact. American officials tried to persuade the British that their relations with Egypt would not deteriorate as a result of the new defence arrangements. The Americans resigned themselves to the fact that Egyptian–Iraqi friction would continue to be a permanent feature of the Middle East balance of power. Further, the State Department believed that if Iraqi adherence to a Northern Tier pact did result in the break up of the Arab League, the Northern Tier might become ‘an alternative centre of attraction round which the Arab States might group themselves’. However, at the beginning of 1955, the UK still remained apprehensive about Egyptian objections, and doubted the value of a pact that failed to mobilize either the support or participation of Egypt.84

83

6 THE FORMATION OF THE BAGHDAD PACT

My Pentagon training had taught me that defense pacts were the answer; but I knew, too, that not a single state we were arming in the Middle East – with the possible exception of Turkey – could withstand for more than a few hours an attack by the Russians. (Wilbur Crane Eveland)1

The UK joins the Pact In mid-January 1955, the US and the UK switched roles. When Turkey and Iraq invited the UK to join their pact, the British decided to respond in the positive. At the very same juncture, Dulles was deterred by Nasser’s violent opposition, and recoiled from the natural outcome of his own brainchild. When approached by Iraq, the UK had to chose immediately between two alternative strategies – one based on Cairo or one based on Baghdad. Given Nasser’s refusal to permit the stationing of foreign troops in Egypt in peacetime, the Cairo option had to be dismissed. If the UK turned down the Iraqi invitation, it risked adding the loss of the Iraqi bases to that of the Canal Zone – and all for the sake of the ever-receding hope of appeasing Nasser, who many British officials were by now coming to regard as an upstart.2 The UK threw its prior caution to the wind and seized the opportunity to renew its tenure on Iraq’s strategic air bases. The optimal solution would have been to secure Egyptian support for and even adherence to the new defence pact, but Nasser gave clear notice that inter-Arab rivalries now ruled out this option. The UK turned down the Egyptian leader’s request to freeze all further talks for six months, and Nuri Said promised the British that he would stand up to Nasser’s opposition. At the end of January 1955, Sir Michael Wright, the UK’s new ambassador to Iraq, met with Nuri Said to explain his country’s military requirements in Iraq: the use of the Habbaniya and Shaiba air bases, the right to station RAF ground personnel and technicians at them, and the provision of facilities for supply dumps, workshops and stores. Nuri insisted on Iraqi formal sovereignty over the air bases, but he accommodated the RAF’s requirements by agreeing to an arrangement for ‘continuously rotating squadrons’.3 84

T H E F O R M AT I O N O F T H E BAG H DA D PAC T

On 10 February, with the receipt of Wright’s report on his talks with Nuri Said, the Foreign Office, without receiving prior Cabinet authority, accepted the Iraqi– Turkish invitation to join their pact. On 22 February, Nuri led an Iraqi delegation to secret military talks, at the Habbaniya air base, with a British team led by the Commander-in-Chief MEAF, Sir Claude Pelly. The two sides reaffirmed the terms settled already in essentials by Wright and Nuri: the Iraqis would provide the Allies with pre-stocking facilities, and the UK and Iraq would conduct joint training and planning exercises, and operate jointly a modern early-warning radar system; and finally, following the Egyptian precedent, the UK would retain in Iraq civilian staffs to maintain its military facilities and workshops, under Iraqi supervision. The Habbaniya and Shaiba air bases would be returned formally to full Iraqi sovereignty, but the RAF would be permitted ‘prolonged and virtually continuous training visits’ to all Iraqi air bases, as well as staging and over-flying facilities.4 Two days later, on 24 February 1955, Turkey and Iraq signed a treaty of alliance. On 15 March, the full British Cabinet approved the UK’s adherence to the new alliance. The official documents were signed on 4 April 1955. At its first full meeting in November 1955, the new grouping took on the name the ‘Baghdad Pact’. The UK was obliged to aid Iraq in the event of external aggression against her – but Iraq was specifically excused from committing its armed forces to fighting outside its own borders. In the event of a general war, the UK would be granted unlimited use of Iraq’s air bases and military facilities.5 A special ceremony was held at the Habbaniya air base to transfer sovereignty to Iraq. Under the ‘continuous rotation’ terms agreed upon the previous February, the RAF jets based there took off, flew westwards in the direction of Cyprus, turned round in mid-air and landed back at Habbaniya several minutes later.6 There was a general consensus that Nasser’s irate opposition to the new bloc forming around Iraq and Turkey was due to his fear that Egypt would be relegated to a poor second in Western planning in the region, and that the lion’s share of Western aid would now be channelled to Iraq and the Northern Tier countries. According to Nasser’s biographer, the Egyptian leader had assumed that ‘the withdrawal of the British, the arms they were leaving him, and the collusion established with Washington made Egypt the fulcrum of the Middle Eastern strategic group’.7 Nasser felt humiliated by Western support for the Baghdad Pact, which he interpreted as an Allied decision to base their Middle Eastern policy on Nuri Said and the Hashemites of Iraq, his arch rivals for leadership of the Arab world, rather than upon himself. He clearly resented Nuri Said having stolen a march on him, and suspected that this was yet another attempt by the Iraqi politician to further his own ambitions to establish a Hashemite hegemony over the Fertile Crescent. The scenario envisioned by Nasser was quite different – one of Egypt, with himself at the helm, leading an independent, united Arab bloc into a new, postcolonialist era. The resulting rivalry would dominate the Arab world for the next four years.8 85


Nasser’s efforts to ostracize Iraq at the Cairo conference in January 1955 (see previous chapter) evoked patronizing comments from long-serving British colonial officials, who had grown accustomed to calling the tune in Egypt, and did not yet appreciate that Britain’s moment in the Middle East was ending. Sir John Sterndale Bennett, one of the veteran Middle East hands at the Foreign Office, derided Nasser’s ‘malevolent or ostrich-like’ attitude, in opposing legitimate Western efforts to ‘buttress the southern flank of NATO’. There is no little irony in Bennett’s comment that the Egyptians were ‘living in a world of dreams’, and his concern whether they, the British, might still be able to ‘educate them to realities’! He hoped they might yet be able to save Nasser’s face and help him to avoid further extreme steps, by pointing out to him some of the facts about modern defence, e.g. the complexities of modern warfare and the equipment needed for it . . . and the logistic and industrial backing which is necessary for war and which the Arab States certainly do not themselves possess.9 Sterndale Bennett’s tirade betrayed little or no sensibility of the fact that Nasser had his own national and regional agenda, which did not happen to dovetail neatly with the West’s Cold War interests.

Anglo-American differences In London, Foreign secretary Eden was incensed by the Americans’ ‘impertinence’, for presuming to differ with the UK over the best way to deal now with Egypt. Harold MacMillan, who succeeded Eden as Foreign Secretary in April 1955, claimed later that Dulles had promised him that once Arab–Israeli tension had been reduced, the US would join the Pact.10 The Foreign Office blamed the activity of the Jewish lobby in Washington for Dulles’s backsliding. Harsh words were exchanged between the two capitals. In a stereotyped misreading of the Washington scene, Sir John Shuckburgh, the senior official dealing with the Middle East at the Foreign Office, minuted: This is becoming an almost blatant piece of Israeli pressure, exercised through the State Department’s lawyers.11 But the British were over simplifying a complex issue. Even if Dulles had laboured hard to get the Iraqis into the Northern Tier grouping, he now had a number of reasons for cooling off. He had not apparently foreseen the way in which the involvement of Iraq would encumber Allied strategic plans for the Middle East with the burden of the Arab–Israeli dispute. And he now realized, even if belatedly, that if the US joined a pact that included any of Israel’s immediate Arab neighbours, the Zionist lobby in Congress would demand ‘compensation’ in the form of a security guarantee to Israel. Indeed, some in Israel even favoured the US joining the Pact, on the assumption that, at the very least, this would secure for them a strategic assurance from Washington. But Dulles feared that a pledge of this kind to Israel would wreak irrevocable harm to American 86


relations with the rest of the Arab world. Finally, it should be remembered that the US had no immediate vested interest in the Baghdad Pact comparable to that of the UK – of ensuring the UK’s continued tenure of Iraq’s strategic air bases.12 In Washington, the JCS pressed for American entry into the Pact, in order to be able to influence its military planning from within, as a full member. But on 6 June 1955, a joint State–Defense working group recommended that the US should delay any move until it became clear whether an Egyptian–Israel settlement could be brokered. There was a general consensus that until the Arab–Israeli conflict was settled, the ‘rear area’ Arab states would give it priority before any arrangements for the defence of the region against a Soviet attack. The group concluded that these ‘rear area states’ must eventually be brought into the security pact, due to their vital ‘L.O.C., and supply and maintenance centers’. The JCS recommended that even if no Arab–Israeli settlement was reached, the US should in any case adhere to the Pact, ‘within a year at most’, in order to ensure continued momentum in the build-up of regional defence machinery.13 Dulles determined that it would be of little use building up the Pact so long as the Arab world behind the ‘Outer Ring’ was in turmoil. British officials also warned against the creation of ‘an unfriendly zone behind the northern tier’.14 The open clash between the two major Arab states, Egypt and Iraq, threatened precisely this prospect. Twelve months later, the Middle East would be on the brink of the Suez Crisis. Dulles therefore changed tack, and now allotted first priority to seeking a peace agreement between Egypt and Israel, the ‘Alpha’ project (see previous chapter). Obviously, there could be no hope of Alpha succeeding without the cooperation of Nasser.15 Dulles therefore advised the UK that he was against any additional Arab states adhering to the Baghdad Pact for the present, for fear of alienating the Egyptian leader still further. He urged that they take immediate steps to restore Nasser’s confidence and enhance his prestige.16 Events in the Middle East itself also influenced high policy. During the night of 28 February 1955, Israel carried out a particularly humiliating retaliation raid on an Egyptian paramilitary base at Khan Yunis, in the Gaza Strip, in which 38 Egyptian soldiers were killed. Nasser himself apparently suspected that the Israelis had struck in the capacity of a Western militia, ordered by the Americans to remind him that without arms he had little weight, that he needed the support of the United States, that he needed to commit himself to the coalition just formed by the Baghdad Pact.17 Nasser conveyed his views to American Intelligence agents in Cairo. Dulles concluded that it had become a question of saving Nasser’s face. He offered the Egyptian leader an economic and military aid package if he would only join the less contentious Turkish–Pakistan Pact, and negotiate a peace agreement with Israel (Alpha). When Nasser rejected the offer, Dulles reassured him that although the US continued to support the Northern Tier, it would not itself join the Baghdad Pact or press any other Arab state to do so.18 87


The Israeli raid on Gaza, and his failure to secure arms from the West, were instrumental in convincing Nasser to look to the Soviets for military aid. The Foreign Office believed that Dulles was misguided in allowing Nasser to dictate Western moves in the Middle East. They believed that the UK had been considerate enough in informing Nasser in advance of its decision to join the Iraqi–Turkish Pact. The UK was also ready to offer ‘sweeteners’ to Nasser, in the form of releasing held-up arms shipments. However, it warned the US against trying to help Nasser at the expense of weakening Western support for the Iraqi–Turkish Pact. The British were also anxious to bring her other Middle Eastern ally, Jordan, into the Pact, and feared that any discouragement of this move by the US would become known immediately. This would be interpreted as a triumph for the Egyptian leader, and cause immense damage to the UK’s relations with the Arab world, especially with Iraq and Turkey. The British ambassador in Washington was instructed to deliver the following sermon to the State Department: I hope you may be able to persuade them that they cannot expect to command respect in the Middle East unless they pursue a consistent policy based on their convictions. Their enthusiastic support of the Turkish– Iraqi Pact is too recent in men’s minds to enable them to execute a volte face with safety or dignity.19 Whereas relations between Washington and London became frayed, discord between the English and American missions in the region spilled over into outright rivalry, especially over the question of arms supplies to those Northern Tier countries that were about to form the Baghdad Pact. As noted already, the US had signed an agreement in April 1954 to supply arms to Iraq. That agreement had been preceded (in February) by the initialling in Washington of a secret Anglo-American document, designed to head off any attempt by Nuri Said to play off the Allies against each other. The US had agreed to coordinate the supply of all military aid to Iraq with the UK. The Americans undertook also to inform the Iraqis that any arms and military training supplied by the US would be complementary to that given by the UK, to whom Iraq should continue to look to primarily for their military supplies. Finally, the US agreed that the UK would continue to be responsible for training the Iraqi armed forces. The COS advised that all military equipment in Iraq should be British, so as not to complicate problems of maintenance, supply and logistics: ‘The lines of communication being British, the equipment flowing along them must be British too.’20 The Washington agreement failed to stem growing friction between Allied officials and officers in the field. Officers attached to American military missions in Iraq and Pakistan claimed publicly that the US had now taken over responsibility for military supplies to Iraq, as the UK did not have the resources to support large forces in that theatre in wartime.21 A particularly graphic description of American 88


activity in Iraq was written in December 1954 by Sir John Troutbeck, upon leaving his post as British ambassador to Iraq: No Englishman in Iraq can remained unmoved as he sees a horde of highly paid American experts sweeping into a country whose traditional ties are with ourselves and hears them denigrating all that Britain has done here in the past and is attempting to do at the present . . . there is much bitterness and alarm in the local British community. They have no belief in American altruism, and see in Point IV [American foreign aid], merely a design to capture markets. There is also a big question mark as to the significance of American military aid. Is it really meant to be complementary to British activity in the same field, or is the aim to push us out of the field altogether or at least reduce us to a minor role?22 During negotiations for setting up the Northern Tier bloc Nuri Said made it abundantly clear to both the Allies that his signature on any agreement would have to be accompanied by generous military aid from either one or both of them. British officials appreciated that the Treasury would be unable to meet all the cost of Iraq’s military requirements. Initially, the Foreign Office suggested that Iraq might pay for all the fixed installations that the UK proposed to leave behind in Iraq, and that the payments would go into a special fund from which Iraq might purchase British arms. The Ministry of Defence agreed, but the Treasury opposed vehemently. First, as they asserted that the Iraqis could well afford to pay for the arms (Iraqi oil revenues had soared from £2 millions per annum in 1950 to £67 millions in 1954);23 and second, for fear of setting any precedent of supplying arms for nothing.24 The Cabinet agreed on a compromise of sorts. The UK would supply arms free, on condition that the Iraqis didn’t charge rent for her continued use of their military facilities.25 As the UK was in any case unable to finance all of Iraq’s military requirements on its own, she pressed the Americans to pay for the larger share, in the form of off-shore purchases of British equipment. The UK believed that American military aid to Iraq would indicate their support for the Baghdad Pact, even if they did not join it formally. The issue was raised first in Washington, at preliminary defence talks held in June 1955 between British Ambassador Sir Roger Makins and American Under-Secretary of State, Herbert Hoover Jr. The British were shocked to learn from Hoover that the Americans had assured Israel that they would not supply the Arab States, including Iraq, with ‘heavy’ military equipment, including tanks.26 This piece of news provoked the following riposte from the Foreign Office (the prose of the unsigned document is in typical Shuckburgh style): The United States Government originated the whole concept of the Northern Tier and urged Turkey and Iraq to conclude their pact on the grounds that the threat from the Soviet Union was a real and urgent 89


one. Throughout the negotiations for the Pact, they impressed upon us all the urgency of the peril. If they now tell the Iraqis that they may not have the weapons necessary for defence against Russia simply because of Israeli susceptibilities, they will be acting in a most irresponsible manner.27 At the summit meeting held in Geneva in July 1955, Prime Minister Eden and Foreign Secretary MacMillan pressed the issue further. They asked Dulles to provide some concrete evidence of the American intention to provide military aid to Iraq, before he went public with the Alpha project. Even if the Israelis interpreted Alpha as a pro-Arab move, the Arab world might interpret it as pro-Israeli. MacMillan persuaded Eisenhower that since the Northern Tier concept had been an American initiative, the US had ‘a special responsibility’ to those countries now allied by treaty under the framework of this concept. The President agreed to the British request that the US purchase British Centurion tanks for Iraq under the off-shore procurement programme. Nuri Said had asked for 80 Centurions. The UK delegation left Geneva believing that Eisenhower had agreed in principle to pay for 70, leaving the UK to pay for 10.28 But back in Washington, Dulles persuaded Eisenhower to cut down radically the number of tanks to be shipped to Iraq, from 80 to 12. Dulles argued that such a large shipment of tanks would not improve American relations with Israel [nor the administration’s position in Congress, where the Israeli lobby had considerable influence]. At the same time, he reassured the President that the Iraqis’ situation was not so ‘precarious’, and that the supply of the Centurions was more in the nature of a gesture, to indicate the West’s continuing support for the Northern Tier, and to prevent Nuri’s overthrow by pro-Nasser forces. In any case, the US Defense Department protested that it did not have the necessary funds.29 The British were most disappointed when Dulles informed them that the US would pay for only ten Centurions, if the UK paid for two. But they could console themselves that the sale of British tanks would preserve their political and military dominance in Iraq. They accepted Dulles’s promise that he would try to secure funding from Congress, for fiscal 1957, for the purchase of 40 more Centurions, ‘with a comparable UK matching’ [eight].30 In October 1955, the Foreign Office decided to dispatch the 12 Centurions to Iraq even before receiving the Americans’ share of the funding – in order to offset the Soviet arms that Nasser was due to receive following the Czech arms deal. The Centurions, together with 31 Ferret scout cars, were handed over to the Iraqi army at a military base outside Baghdad in January 1956.31 In March 1956, Eisenhower proved as good as his word, informing Eden that he would ask Congress for the necessary funding for the additional 40 Centurions, on the firm understanding that they would ‘not be used for any purpose except the defense of the area in connection with the Baghdad Pact’.32 Washington’s support of the British arms monopoly in Iraq infuriated the American ambassador in Baghdad, J.L. Berry. When he resigned in protest in the 90


summer of 1955, he warned that: Great Britain’s visions of a continuing empire, the refusal of IPC to explore and produce all of Iraqi oil reserves, and the use of Iraqi Development Board funds for huge projects largely benefiting British contractors and their country’s own economy would bring on a nationalistic upheaval in Iraq, from which the West would suffer badly.33 However, the political restraints imposed by conflicting interests in Washington – between showing support for Iraq and the Northern Tier, while at the same time not offending Israel – persisted. This had almost comical consequences. An American military mission that visited Iraq observed that her main military requirement was tank transporters, in order to move her tanks swiftly to the front for which they were intended – at the mountain passes along the Turkish and Iraq–Iran borders. But the transporters were proscribed by Washington, lest they be used to move the tanks to her border with Israel.34

Closing the Northern Tier: Pakistan and Iran There now existed two bilateral defence pacts in the Middle East, that between Turkey and Pakistan and that between Turkey and Iraq. In order to close the Northern Tier, it remained but to consolidate the two pacts and to induct Iran. Turkey was the common link between the two, and defined by the National Security Council (NSC) as the key to the ‘formal collective security arrangements of the Western World and the Middle East’.35 The cooperation of Pakistan would facilitate the defence of the Zagros mountains and, politically, would close the Northern Tier and ‘thereby contribute to the developing regional consciousness of the states in the area’.36 At military staff talks held between the US, the UK and Turkey in early 1955 (see next chapter), it was agreed to secure the adherence of Iran and Pakistan to the Turkish–Iraqi Pact ‘in the fairly near future’, thereby completing the Northern Tier defence bloc.37 Pakistan was already linked to Turkey, and in receipt of US military aid. On 1 July 1955, the Pakistani Prime Minister announced his intention to join the Baghdad Pact. However, Pakistan’s entry was delayed by her demand to be reassured on the following two points: first, that it would be committed to come to the defence of Baghdad Pact members only in the event of direct aggression against any one of them, but would not be committed to aid Turkey in the event that it became involved in a conflict resulting from her NATO obligations; and second, that Pakistan would not be required to undertake any ‘commitment which would have [the] effect of weakening its capacity for defending its own territory’.38 The case for and against Iran’s membership of the Baghdad Pact was yet more complex. The Allies had to weigh carefully the chronic instability of the regime and Iran’s military weakness against the country’s undoubted strategic importance. Iran had experienced considerable political and social turbulence after World War 91


Two, especially when the Soviet Union had reneged on the wartime agreement with the UK to evacuate its forces from the north of the country within six months of the end of the war.39 The consequent rise of nationalist sentiment in Iran exposed differences between the Atlantic Allies. On 25 September 1951, the Iranian premier, Dr Mohammed Mossadigh, had ordered all British staff at the Abadan oil refinery (the largest in the world at that time, run by British engineers) to leave within one week. The British military pressed for taking over the island of Abadan by force. But the Attlee Cabinet vetoed the idea, knowing that the US would not go along with a move that was likely to fan the flames of radical antiWestern nationalism yet further. American officials accused their ally of placing their own interests above the risks of bringing about the internal collapse of Iran. The consequent evacuation of Iran by the UK on 4 October, was regarded throughout the Middle East as a sign of British debility, and taken by the Egyptians as a cue to abrogate unilaterally their own treaty with the British.40 However, Dr Mossadigh’s brand of eccentric anti-colonialist populism, which the US identified with communism, did not augur well for the West. Internal political instability persisted after the Anglo-Iraqi oil nationalization crisis. Finally, in August 1953, CIA agents organized a military coup (Operation Ajax) that toppled Mossadigh and restored to power the Shah, Mohammed Riza Pahlevi. The installation of a pro-Western government under General Zahedi was followed by a massive influx of American aid. The final settlement of the oil dispute gave American companies a significant share in the Iranian oil industry.41 In the absence of any Western-style democratic institutions in Iran, the US, with British support, now took the risky path of sponsoring the Shah, a man whose personal weaknesses – ‘political ineptitude, vanity and procrastination’ – were common knowledge. But the Shah appeared to be the only stable political institution in Iran and moreover, he looked to the West for his arms supplies and ‘he spoke the language of the Cold War more persuasively than others’.42 From the outset of his rule the Shah conditioned any ties to the US on receiving military aid from her. In December 1953, the US ambassador to Iran, Loy Henderson, reported: ‘In effect Shah says he cannot consider cooperative arrangements until army improved; we would be saying we cannot build up army until defense arrangements concluded.’43 In 1954, an NSC report had referred to the inability of the Iranian armed forces ‘to intelligently and effectively absorb and employ sophisticated military equipment’. Prior to the signing of any bilateral agreement, the US sent two military missions to Iran. One was charged with building up Iran’s internal security agencies, while the other was supposed to train Iran’s military for the role of holding up a Soviet offensive until allied reinforcements arrived. At the same time, the CIA was building up Iran’s secret service, the SAVAK, with covert funds, in order both to guarantee the Shah’s rule and to suppress communism.44 However, there remained significant gaps between what the Shah demanded and what the US was prepared to supply. Like his father, Reza, the Shah was determined to build-up the Iranian army as a loyal instrument of his own monarchy, 92


rather than as a national institution.45 But the Allies did not hold the Iranian military in high regard. In May 1955, Shuckburgh commented: Persian adherence to the [Baghdad] Pact would have little if any military advantage for any of the parties. The Persian forces are at present incapable of putting up any resistance at all to a Russian attack; even if they were, the civil administration would almost certainly collapse at the first sign of such an attack and the Shah possibly would flee the country. It will at best be many years before American aid can alter that position.46 The Eisenhower administration determined that arms deliveries to Iran should be commensurate with Iran’s role in the Northern Tier defence organization. But the JCS refused to consider Iran’s military role in the region until the rest of the Northern Tier was built-up.47 Given the belief that Iran was indefensible against a Soviet attack, there was concern also that American military equipment sent to Iran would be ‘wasted’, that is, fall into Soviet hands in the event of a war. The US was mindful also of the dangers of over-burdening Iran’s economy with a bloated military establishment. Nonetheless, it has been estimated that between 1950 and 1957 American military aid to Iran amounted to a total of some $400 million.48 The Allies both regarded Iran as being more of a military liability than asset. But they could not simply write her off. With her strategic mountain chains – the Elburz along the Caspian Sea, and the Zagros, giving access to north-east Iraq – Iran comprised a vital strategic link in the Northern Tier defence line (see Map 2). Without her, there would be a break in the line between Pakistan and the states at the western end of the Northern Tier. This point was made by Admiral Carney, Chief of Naval Operations, at a meeting between the JCS and State Department officials in July 1954. In his previous position as CINCELM, Carney had served as the senior American officer in the Middle East. At the same JCS–State discussion, General Mathew Ridgway, the Army Chief of Staff, underlined their dilemma in a nutshell:‘Iran would not be excluded [from the northern tier] but . . . unless we got forces there Iran would simply be a liability. Iran was important from the real estate point of view . . . but it was nonetheless indefensible.’49 In Washington, the NSC believed that the adherence of Iran would not only improve the West’s ‘overall political and defense posture in the Middle East’, but would also militate against ‘a dangerous posture of neutralism’, and reinforce pro-Western elements in the country. Apart from the strategic imperative, there were also significant political, Cold War considerations. Both Allies agreed that the inclusion of Iran, with its strong tradition of neutrality, would be ‘a striking victory for the Western cause in the Middle East’.50 On the other hand, if Iran went over to the communist camp, it would jeopardise the whole strategic concept for the defence of the Middle East, which currently rested on the Zagros mountains. The UK hoped that the inclusion of Iran would make the Baghdad Pact look less like a Western creation, and thereby attract other Middle Eastern countries 93


(Jordan, the Lebanon and eventually, perhaps, Syria and Egypt) whose participation, unlike that of Iran, ‘would be of genuine military value’.51 The Allies differed in their assessments of Iran’s strategic importance, especially in relation to that of Iraq. The JCS believed that due to her geo-strategic position, Iran would play a more important role than Iraq in a war. The UK, with a heavy military investment in Iraq, begged to differ. Committed already to the defence of Iraq, the British were determined not to make any further commitment to Iran, or to offer any specific guarantee of its territorial integrity.52 In March 1955, in the wake of the Anglo-Iraqi agreement of the previous month, the Iranian Chief of Staff suggested to the British military attaché in Teheran that he should convene staff talks immediately with the other Northern Tier states – Turkey, Iraq and Pakistan – together with the UK and the US. The Iranians’ objective, before deciding if to join the Baghdad Pact, was to ascertain first how the defence of their own territory would be provided for within the Northern Tier arrangement. The head of the American military mission in Iran, General McClure, was in favour of the staff talks, even if the American role would be restricted to observer status.53 Staff talks on the northern tier pact were held at the Habbaniya air base in Iraq, from 8 to 14 August 1955. Military delegates from Iraq, Iran and Turkey attended, together with the American and the British military attachés. When the Iranian delegate tried to extract a formal commitment that the defence of his country was ‘considered vital to the defence of the rest of the Middle East’, it was made clear to him that no commitment would be given until Iran formally joined the Pact.54 The final terms of Iran’s adherence to the Pact and her strategic role in it were delineated at bilateral Anglo-American discussions in Washington, in September 1955. Making a virtue out of strategic necessity, the British Chiefs conceded that with American training and equipment, Iranian forces might eventually make ‘a more positive contribution to Middle East defence’. However, the strategic dilemma concerning Iran remained – would it insist eventually on amending Pact strategy so as to guarantee her territorial integrity? This would involve moving the current defence line from the Zagros north to the Elburz mountains (see Map 2). Although the Shah had in fact just agreed to the Zagros concept, it was expected that he would change his mind once Iran joined the Pact. In October 1955, British planners pointed out that Allied forces were already overstretched. They insisted that with the limited forces currently available, and due to the logistical problems involved, they could not possibly push their strategic defensive line forward to the Elburz mountains. The best role for the Iranians, they insisted, would be to ‘carry out a fighting withdrawal to prepared positions in the Zagros Mountains’.55 From the vantage-point of London and Washington, this may have appeared to be orthodox military planning. But how could a defence pact be constructed whose strategic concept would surrender a substantial portion of the territory of one of its members?56 Pakistan joined the Baghdad Pact on 23 September 1955 and Iran followed on 11 October 1955. If Iran was finally brought in to the Pact, notwithstanding all 94


the conspicuous warning signs, it was because the dangers of not doing so were considered to be yet more ominous. Ultimately, Cold War political considerations took precedence over orthodox military doctrine. All this did not augur well for a serious defence of the Northern Tier. There was a tendency in some quarters to view the NATO and Baghdad Pact strategic deployments as one single theatre, lined up opposite the combined forces of the Warsaw Pact. The State Department’s European division was gratified that the Baghdad Pact would bring strength to the Near Eastern flank of NATO, and contribute to ‘an effective defense of the oil areas and the Suez district.’ They also relished the prospect that the new pact would prolong indefinitely the British tenure of their bases in Iraq, and might persuade the UK to leave its current Middle East garrison in place, or even bring in reinforcements.57 With Turkey a member of both NATO and the Baghdad Pact, the question of military liaison between the two organizations also arose, inevitably. But the JCS opposed the establishment of any elaborate military superstructure, or combined planning and joint command arrangements for NATO and the Pact. This was because that would necessarily imply further commitments of American forces, for which they were not yet ready.58 Whitehall also had its reservations. The Foreign Office was pessimistic about any real coordination between the two security pacts, even if the US, and perhaps even the French, eventually joined the Baghdad Pact. For even if these countries did all join, there remained several, insuperable obstacles to any real strategic liaison. First, the members of each organization were anxious lest the other bloc involved them in a conflict that didn’t concern them; Pakistan in particular, but also Iraq, expressed reservations that Turkey’s membership of NATO might drag the members of the Baghdad Pact into a NATO war. NATO members expressed similar reservations, that Turkey’s membership of the Baghdad Pact might involve NATO in a war in the Middle East, or in South East Asia. Second, the Baghdad Pact as yet had no established defence organizations, or any orthodox strategic concept of its own. Any liaison between the two defence organizations at the operational level could be considered only after the Baghdad Pact had developed its own effective military planning establishment.59 It never did.

The Jordan débacle Since the initial formation of the Baghdad Pact, the UK had aimed at inducing one or two other Arab states, in addition to Iraq, to join it. This would remove Iraq’s isolation inside the Arab world, and thereby enhance the Pact’s value as an ‘umbrella’ for preserving the UK’s strategic and military facilities in Iraq. Jordan was the obvious candidate for becoming the second Arab member of the pact. As noted already, the UK had bankrolled Jordan since its inception in 1921. The Arab Legion had been set up in 1924 by a British colonel, Peake Pasha, who became its first commander. General Sir John Glubb (Pasha), who arrived in Transjordan in 1930, became its second commander in 1939.60 The Legion was 95


not only ‘the mainstay of the monarchy’, but also ‘the embodiment of the Jordanian state’ and, under British command, was ‘the most tangible manifestation of the confluence of British and Hashemite interests’. During the first decade of the monarchy, the legion saw it through several serious crises.61 The Foreign Office took it for granted that its protégé would fall in with London’s design for it to join a ‘Western-led military set-up’ in the Middle East, and that the Arab Legion would fight on the Allied side in the event of a Soviet offensive against the Middle East’.62 The need to build up the Pact, and to keep Hussein in the Western camp, was urged forcefully upon London by its diplomatic and military envoys in Amman, the ambassador, Charles Duke, and Glubb Pasha, as well as by other members of the Pact. Initially, the UK had been reticent about bringing Jordan into the Pact, for fear of provoking Nasser gratuitously. The issue of Jordan’s induction soon became the lightning rod of what quickly turned into a battle of wills between Egypt and the UK. This raised wider considerations of regional politics and prestige. The UK soon became convinced that the best way to deal with Nasser’s turn to the Soviets was ‘to isolate Egypt by grouping the remaining Arab states firmly round the Baghdad Pact’.63 In September 1955, the Czech–Egyptian arms deal jolted Western strategic conceptions towards the Middle East. In the words of Uriel Dann, the Baghdad Pact, hitherto ‘a means to tighten the cordon sanitaire encircling the Soviet Union between NATO to the West and SEATO to the east’, now became ‘the response to an actual challenge, even a present danger’.64 Pressure from Amman for Jordan’s induction mounted. Glubb was convinced that Nasser’s ultimate goal was to oust the British from Jordan and to tie Jordan to Egypt. Supported by the ambassador to Amman, Charles Duke, Glubb went so far as to suggest that: ‘Jordanian accession to the Baghdad Pact may be the key to the preservation and extension of our influence in the Middle East and the lever by which we may be able to shut out Russia.’65 There was no strategic imperative for Jordan to join the Baghdad Pact, since it did not lie along the Northern Tier. Not only that, but Jordan’s common border with Israel complicated matters. But there were certain strategic benefits in the move. The desert kingdom could provide valuable training grounds, army camps, pre-stocking facilities and ammunition dumps for Allied forces in the Middle East. Its British-trained Arab Legion (arguably the best military force that fought in the first Arab–Israeli war) was potentially a valuable military asset for the Allies in the event of a general war. As the legion’s commander, General Glubb, suggested, the arms package that would be offered as an inducement to Jordan to join the Pact would mean that, in case the Soviet Union invaded the Middle East, the Arab Legion would put in its path a fully equipped infantry division (including a tank regiment and medium artillery), while the remaining brigade would stay in Jordan, presumably to face Israel on the West Bank.66 96


But for Jordan’s young and inexperienced king (Hussein was crowned in August 1952, at the age of 17) the natural course appeared to be one of neutrality. Jordan was tied to the West by virtue of the annual British subsidy (which stood at £10 to 12 millions per annum in the early 1950s), and to Iraq by dynastic and trade relations. However, Hussein had no desire to alienate the rest of the Arab world by joining the Baghdad Pact, especially not Egypt, whose military aid he might need against a feared Israeli attack. The fact was that he regarded his neighbour, Hashemite Iraq, as a greater threat to Jordanian integrity than Egypt – with whom he had no common border. And last but not least, Hussein feared the adverse reaction of the pro-Egyptian Palestinian majority (two-thirds of the population) in Jordan to any closer ties with the West.67 Iraq and Turkey also campaigned for Jordan to join the Pact. Nuri Said had his own special interest in inducing Jordan to join – namely that of breaking Iraq’s current isolation in the Arab world. On one of his regular visits to London, in June 1955, he tried to persuade the British that the best way to neutralise Nasser’s opposition would be to get Jordan into the Pact.68 Ultimately, Hussein’s own need for Western military aid dictated a pro-British policy. As seen already (chapter 4), Jordan had relied since the early 1950s upon her treaty with the UK to guarantee herself against an Israeli attack. But the Anglo-Egyptian agreement of 1954 had effectively removed the UK deterrent against such an attack. King Hussein felt increasingly vulnerable, and in urgent need of additional military aid. He came to appreciate that only by joining the Pact could he secure from the UK the additional military aid with which to beef up the Arab Legion. During the spring, and again in November 1955, he and his prime minister sounded out the British ambassador in Amman as to what material gains Jordan might expect if she joined the Pact. Glubb called the king’s requests for equipment to expand the Arab Legion ‘a bribe for his consent’ to join the Pact.69 The Foreign Office was persuaded that the UK had to demonstrate that it was still a power to be reckoned with in the region. Egypt could not be permitted to take over what had until now been a British hegemony. It was galling to the UK that a vassal dependent on it for over 30 years should bow to Nasser’s bidding and refuse to accommodate his patron’s interests in the Middle East. The British also began to ask themselves why they should continue to spend large sums on economic and military aid to Jordan, if it would do nothing for them in return. Whitehall determined therefore to bring Jordan into the Pact.70 The Turks played a major role in the campaign to pressure Jordan into joining the Pact; they also pressed the UK to bring her influence to bear. In October 1955, they lobbied the Foreign Office. On 6 November, Turkish President Çelal Bayar visited Jordan. The Turks promised Jordan that if she joined the Pact, that they (the Turks), would counter any military or economic threat that might emanate from Syria. The Jordanians appeared to be persuaded, provided, as the Turks reassured them, that they received a quid pro quo in increased economic and military aid from the UK. Hussein intimated to the Turkish leader that the ‘price’ of 97


his joining the Pact would be ‘roughly a tripling of the Arab Legion in manpower, formations, and armaments’.71 Jordan’s Prime Minister sounded out ambassador Duke, asking what form the quid pro quo would take? Duke promised a more favourable response to Jordan’s standing request to revise the Anglo-Jordanian Treaty. In addition, Duke promised: ‘that as a member of [the] Pact, which formed the essential basis of [the] Northern Tier concept . . . Jordan would be entitled to more sympathetic consideration of her military needs once she was a partner in that joint defensive system’.72 Duke intimated that Jordan would receive the ten Vampire jet fighters already promised on yet more generous terms than those agreed recently during King Hussein’s visit to London.73 He reported back to London that Jordan was now ‘on the brink’ of joining the Pact. The final decision apparently hinged on the size of the British military aid package, solid benefits that could be paraded before the Jordanian Parliament and people. Duke stated that promptness of delivery of the 10 Vampire jet fighters was more important than giving them away for nothing. Hussein was prepared to rent them, and in any case, they were no longer in service with the RAF.74 In addition to the Vampires, General Glubb warned that the minimum that would now satisfy the Jordanians would be for the UK to pay for the creation of two new infantry battalions for the Arab Legion, and the conversion of its armoured-car regiment into a tank regiment. The War Office estimated that this would cost some £2 million in the first year, with an additional, recurring annual cost of £1 million. The War Office itself was not prepared to recommend these increases on purely military grounds, or to meet the expense involved. The Foreign Office too was against the extra expenditure, notwithstanding the gloomy prognosis from Amman. However, the department did suggest that the Vampires be given as an outright gift, the costs to be borne by the Foreign Office budget.75 Jordan’s prospective adherence to the Pact was one of the principal items on the agenda of the first meeting of the Baghdad Pact Council, held in Baghdad on 21 November 1955. Strong pressure exerted by Pact members converted Foreign Minister MacMillan. Upon his return to London, MacMillan warned the Cabinet’s Defence Committee on 2 December that no less than the British position in the Middle East now hinged upon Jordan’s adherence to the pact: The world struggle for power had now shifted to the Middle East, and in particular to the control of Middle East oil supplies. The Baghdad Pact was a major element in our policy for safeguarding our interests. Its success or failure would be largely judged by whether we were able to secure the adherence of Jordan. If Jordan did not join, it was doubtful if Iraq would be content to remain as the one Arab State which was party to the Pact. If, however, Jordan adhered . . . a substantial part of the Arab world would have been brought into the Pact and isolated from Egypt and from Soviet influences.76 98


The committee decided that the military-aid package would be taken to Jordan by no less than the CIGS, Field Marshal Sir Gerald Templer, accompanied by Michael Rose, head of the Levant department at the Foreign Office. The issue became yet more urgent following the uninvited arrival in Amman of two senior officials of the Egyptian regime – Major-General Amer, the Egyptian COS, and Colonel Anwar Sadat of the Egyptian Revolutionary Council.77 The British sense of urgency is reflected also by the fact that on 6 December the full Cabinet approved a military package that would have cost more than twice the ‘shopping-list’ suggested by Duke and Glubb (it will be recalled that in July 1954, the government had vetoed any increase in the Arab Legion’s annual budget, which then stood at £7.5 million).78 Templer was authorized to offer the following package (in addition to the gift of the ten Vampires): the creation of two new infantry battalions, to be equipped with small arms, anti-tank guns and three-inch mortars. These, together with the existing infantry battalion would make up a new infantry brigade, which would receive a new brigade headquarters and a transport company.79 The armoured-car regiment would be converted into an armoured regiment, equipped with 62 British Comet tanks and other vehicles. Finally, the military package included the offer of a medium artillery regiment equipped with eighteen 5 –12 inch guns. The total cost of this package would be nearly £5 million, with additional annual maintenance costs of £1,220,000.80 The American reaction to the Czech arms deal differed from that of the British. Dulles was concerned not to drive Nasser any further into the Soviet bear hug. In addition, he was alarmed at the vociferous Soviet reaction to Iran having joined the Pact that same month.81 As seen already, the American administration aimed at keeping Nasser in the Western camp through the Alpha project (which involved allocating parts of Israeli territory to Egypt and Jordan), and through the financing of the Aswan High Dam project. At the highest level, the dialogue between Dulles and Eden concerning the Middle East became infused with ambivalence, ambiguity and misunderstanding. The campaign to induct Jordan into the Pact was no exception. In August 1955, Washington had secured London’s agreement not to encourage Jordan to join the Baghdad Pact until the Arab–Israeli conflict had eased. In retrospect, in 1956, Dulles argued that the British had acted very unwisely, since Jordan’s accession to the Pact would have produced ‘a common border between Israel and the Baghdad Pact countries’.82 Yet at the end of October 1955, Dulles intimated to Whitehall that he did not object to the Jordan démarche, and even asked MacMillan if the UK could mediate a frontier settlement between Jordan and Israel. However, Dulles changed tack again in November, after Nasser told Henry Byroade, the American ambassador to Egypt, that he would not oppose the Pact provided no effort was made to enlist additional Arab states. Following Byroade’s report, and upon being informed of the Cabinet decision of 6 December, Dulles now warned MacMillan that the US would not support the Templer mission, as it might harm the chances of securing 99


Nasser’s cooperation in the Alpha project. But Dulles did not press his views vigorously, and in any case, by this stage the British were irrevocably determined to muster Jordan into the Baghdad Pact fold.83 The Eden government believed apparently that the visit of a British Field Marshal to Jordan would flatter King Hussein who, having graduated from the Sandhurst Military Academy, fancied himself as something of a soldier. Templer was also authorised to offer King Hussein the honorary rank of Vice-Marshal of the RAF, if the opportunity arose (it didn’t). Iraq was also offering £1.3 million in aid. Templer was to use the ‘carrot and the stick’ method. Should Jordan opt not to join the pact, he was authorized to withdraw the entire British subsidy. It was a sanction he chose not to apply.84 The Templer mission lasted from 7 to 14 December 1955. It turned into a diplomatic disaster, frustrated and ultimately sabotaged by two major factors: first, by Egyptian propaganda, which had been rampant in Amman since the Baghdad Pact council meeting in November; this was brought to a crescendo by the concurrent visit to Amman of the two Egyptian officers, ’Abd al-Hakim Amr, and Anwar al-Sadat; and second, by the opposition of the West Bank Palestinian majority living in Jordan, who were incited and enflamed by the Egyptian propaganda campaign. The Palestinians feared that Jordan’s entry into the Pact would freeze the status quo in regard to a settlement with Israel.85 The four West Bank Palestinian members of the Jordanian cabinet vetoed Jordanian accession to the Pact, and forced the resignation of the Said el-Mufti government. When the Jordanian Prime Minister refused even to sign a ‘letter of intent’, King Hussein offered to sign it himself, but was prevented from doing so by Duke and Templer. The latter, the most senior officer in the British army, felt that it was below his station to be kept waiting on the Jordanian doorstep for so long.86 He blamed the Jordanian Prime Minister for being ‘a jelly who is frightened of his own shadow’ and the Palestinians for being ‘completely blind to any aspect of the problem except the Israel issue about which they bleat continuously’.87 The appointment by King Hussein of a new Prime Minister, Hazza al-Majali, a man known to favour the accession of Jordan to the Pact, appeared to augur well. But the announcement of his appointment provoked widespread rioting. The unrest began on 16 December, in the main towns and in the Palestinian refugee camps, on both the east and west banks of the river Jordan, including east Jerusalem.88 Hussein was forced to dissolve the parliament and to restore order by force. Templer was advised discreetly that his departure from Jordan would help matters. He left Jordan on 14 December. On the 19 December King Hussein informed ambassador Duke that Jordan would be unable to join the Pact in the near term. On the next day, the incumbent Prime Minister, al-Majali, also resigned. The UK continued to hope that Jordan might somehow still join the Pact and was not disabused until 1 March 1956, when King Hussein summarily dismissed Glubb Pasha as commander of the Arab Legion.89 The UK’s abortive attempt to induce Jordan to join the Baghdad Pact served in many respects as a watershed for its Middle Eastern Empire. 100


A recent study has blamed the débacle on the British government, in that it failed to prepare Jordanian ministerial and public opinion for Jordanian entry. The same study claims that it was foolhardy to base the entire initiative on a young and naive King, who had allowed himself to be misled by prior Egyptian reassurances that Egypt would not ‘destabilize’ his regime if Jordan joined the Pact.90 This analysis implies that had the UK only prepared the ground better, Jordan could have been brought into the Baghdad Pact without any local or regional turbulence. This hypothesis is untenable. Templer’s mission exposed what has been called ‘a deep schism in Jordan . . . largely along East Bank – West Bank lines’.91 Nasser took up what he saw as the gauntlet thrown down by the UK. He felt that the British, together with Nuri Said were ‘trying to isolate Egypt, to encircle it with a ring of new Arab members of the Baghdad Pact . . . in order to put pressure on Egypt and reduce it again to dependence on the British.’92 The Templer mission was a characteristic example of the anachronistic mindframe and critical lack of judgment of many Foreign Office hands at that time. Typically, Templer himself blamed the failure of his mission on ‘the spinelessness of the Jordan Prime Minister’, on the ‘intransigence and unexpected guts of the West Bank Ministers’ and, of course, on the pernicious influence of Egypt.93 Uriel Dann, perhaps the most perceptive historian of Hashemite Jordan, offers what is arguably the most incisive appraisal of Templer’s mission: The presence of a British general presuming to dictate policy to an Arab state supposedly sovereign but in fact in British bondage worked wonders to demonstrate the character of the British connection. The appearance at Amman at that time of two very important Egyptians [‘Amr and al-Sadat] magnified the imprudence of Templer’s visit . . . Here appeared authentic freedom fighters for Arabdom and Islam, while imperialism had sent out its delegate to subvert a member of the Arab and Muslim umma [religious community].94 The Middle East had been under British hegemony for decades. The habit of colonial rule in Jordan [and in the Middle East in general] still coloured the British perspective, and produced what has been called Whitehall’s ‘proprietary attitude.’95 One other casualty of the episode was MacMillan himself, who was shunted by Eden from the Foreign Office to the Exchequer: the move may or may not have been coincidental. It has been widely represented as being due to Eden’s wish to have someone at the Foreign Office who ‘would not seek to challenge his authority or develop independent lines of policy’.96 The Templer debacle certainly provided Eden with a suitable pretext. From the Egyptian perspective, the Templer mission represented a breach of faith on the part of the British. Nasser had taken Eden at his word (given in April 1955), that he would not try to induct any other Arab states into the Baghdad Pact. 101


The Templer mission caused Nasser to lose all faith in Eden. He embarked upon an all-out propaganda war against the Baghdad Pact and British policy throughout the Middle East.97 The Jordan débacle exacerbated yet further the acrimonious relations between the senior officials in London and in Washington in regard to all that pertained to the Baghdad Pact. In contrast to Eden and MacMillan, Eisenhower and Dulles never regarded Colonel Nasser as a personal challenge to American national interests and prestige in the Middle East. Dulles told the NSC that the failure of the Templer mission was the UK’s ‘most humiliating defeat in modern history’. Eisenhower reminded the Council that the US had never tried to get any country having common borders with Israel into the Pact. However, Dulles’s prediction that ‘Glubb would probably be able to maintain the situation against the extremists’ was demonstrated as erroneous, all too soon.98 The Egyptian role in sabotaging Templer’s mission should have sent a clear warning to both Allies – that notwithstanding their contributions to the Aswan Loan (offered on 19 December 1955), Egypt was not about to show any gratitude by accommodating Western defence interests in the Middle East. Dulles later blamed the UK for the damage wrought by the Templer mission to the British and, by association – as Allen Dulles told the NSC – also to the American position in the Middle East. Secretary Dulles did not endear himself to the British by repeating his views in public, in a speech before the Congress.99 The Templer mission provided a foretaste of friction between the Atlantic Allies in the Middle East. Their relations would sink to their nadir just seven months later, with the eruption of the Suez Crisis.

The end of the UK’s tenure in Jordan As noted already, with the evacuation of British forces from Egypt from the end of 1955, the UK became progressively less able to fulfil its treaty obligations to Jordan to defend Jordan against an Israeli attack. This occurred at the very time when that contingency became the more likely, following the Czech arms deal of September 1955, and the consequent probability of an Egyptian–Israeli war (see chapter 9). British planning for the defence of Jordan relied now upon using the MEAF from its bases in Cyprus, both in order to save Jordan from being overrun by Israel and to fly in ground reinforcements to save the Arab Legion from destruction. However, after 1 March 1956, when King Hussein summarily dismissed the British officers of the Legion, including its commander, General Glubb Pasha, even this option evaporated. (Under British command, UK planners had expected the Legion to survive for seven days, time enough for British reinforcements to be flown in.) The planners now believed that without British command the Arab Legion could not survive on its own as an organized force against the IDF for more than a day or two. This was not enough time for the MEAF to ‘neutralize’ the IAF, or to fly in British ground forces to save the Arab Legion from annihilation. In any case, the Israelis were now expected to bomb out the 102


runways of the Amman and Mafraq airfields, rendering them unusable by the MEAF.100 In consequence, plans for basing two DF/GA squadrons of the RAF at Amman and two at Mafraq were also abandoned. Plans for flying in two brigades of ground forces to these bases were now predicated upon the unlikely condition of the IAF being neutralized first. In effect, the move of the two brigades was now considered more as a last-ditch option for saving the Jordanian regime from collapse, than as a considered military operation to aid an ally in war.101 Once again, the British were reduced to ‘bluffing through’ in the Middle East. They could hardly tell the Jordanians that their plans to defend them had in effect been abandoned. Any hint of this might drive the Jordanians into the Egyptian–Syrian camp, and prompt uncomfortable questions among the UK’s Baghdad Pact allies. British planners expressed the pious hope that even if their current plans were ‘without much value as a means of giving military support’, the very fact of their existence might well ‘give some comfort to the Jordanian authorities’.102 The dilemma was very real, as British officers were due to meet soon (in July 1956) with their opposite numbers in Jordan, at a regular session of the AngloJordanian Joint Defence Board. The Jordanians were expected to seek reassurances from the British that in the event of an Israeli attack against either Egypt or Syria, the UK still intended sending reinforcements immediately to Jordan (the UK had undertaken to do just that on 28 February 1956, on the very eve of General Glubb’s dismissal). The British officers were authorized to state, if pressed, that in the event of an Israeli aggression, the UK still intended flying ground reinforcements into Jordan ‘once an acceptable air situation has been achieved’.103 The Jordanians themselves came to the rescue. At the meeting of the Joint Defence Board in July, they informed the British officers that, ‘for sound political reasons’, in the event of a war against Israel it would not be advisable for British land forces to take part in operations either on the West Bank or in north Jordan. This was due evidently to Jordan having grown closer to Egypt and Syria, under the auspices of the Arab League Mutual Security Pact (ALMSP).104 Nonetheless, the Jordanians still expected British military aid in the form of aerial and naval attacks on Israeli military installations. They also expected to receive more British arms. They wanted to build up the Legion so that it would be able to hold out against an attack by Israel until their Arab allies came to their aid. To do this, the Jordanians asked the UK for military equipment and ammunition to build up and supply one infantry brigade group, one regiment of medium artillery, one tank regiment and two squadrons of DF/GA aircraft (this list, not coincidentally, resembled closely that which Templer had brought to Amman the previous December).105 However, following Jordan’s refusal to enter the Baghdad Pact, and King Hussein’s dismissal of Glubb, the UK was no longer inclined to contemplate any increase in the subsidy to Jordan (in March, following Glubb’s dismissal, some Ministers had considered cancelling it altogether). In any case, the UK considered 103


that the Jordanian demands (which included British financing of the replacement of the Jordanian Vampire jets with Venoms) were ‘fantastically disproportionate to the strength of the Jordan Arab Army.’106 On the eve of the Suez War, the COS conceded that their bilateral treaty with Jordan was ‘militarily an embarrassment and of little further value’. With the facilities they now expected to receive from the Baghdad Pact countries, the stationing of British forces in Jordan was no longer a strategic imperative. The Mafraq air base in Jordan was still considered to be important for the strategic air offensive, and as a staging post for fighter and transport aircraft flying in support of Pact ground forces. But it was no longer essential, as Cyprus bases and forward airfields in the Pact area might provide alternatives. In sum, the British planners concluded that ‘the abrogation of the Anglo-Jordan Treaty would not significantly affect our military support of the Baghdad Pact’. However, the planners did foresee that the abrogation of their treaty with an Arab state might have political repercussions. It might weaken the Baghdad Pact by perpetuating the isolation of Iraq, leaving her as the only Arab state aligned with the West. However, as Uriel Dann has aptly noted: ‘The British Government had by then made up its mind that the treaty was an expensive bauble.’107 But even now, the British did not leave of their own free will. As was the case with most of their colonial possessions, they needed to be pushed. The Anglo-French invasion of Egypt in early November 1956 precipitated the termination of the British era in Jordan. On 27 November, the Jordanian parliament voted almost unanimously (39 out of 40) to abrogate the treaty with the UK. The few remaining British officers in the Legion were dismissed. In March 1957, King Hussein and the UK reached an agreement that effectively terminated the Anglo-Jordanian Treaty of 1948. The UK agreed to evacuate its remaining bases in Jordan, a process completed in July of that year. Jordan was left to seek American aid to replace that supplied hitherto by the British.108 American officials were reminded of the sequence of events of nearly a decade before – when the UK had abandoned her positions in Greece and Turkey, thereby triggering the swift promulgation of the Truman Doctrine (March 1947). Initially, the US refused Hussein’s request for aid, and the latter therefore acceded to his Prime Minister’s policy of securing Arab assistance. On 19 January 1957, King Hussein, Colonel Nasser, King Ibn Saud and the Syrian Premier, Sabri al-‘Asali signed an Arab Solidarity Agreement in Cairo. Her Arab allies promised to give Jordan £E12.5 million per annum (the precise amount of the British annual subsidy) for the next ten years.109 However, the new Arab combination did not bring tranquility to Jordan. Hussein’s regime went through a severe upheaval during the early weeks of 1957, as the elements upon which the Hashemite regime in Jordan had traditionally rested – ‘a loyalist government; a strong, formidable, and cohesive army; a dependable and faithful patron [the UK)’ – all appeared to fail it. The crisis came to a head in April, when Hussein employed his faithful Beduin forces to pre-empt a military coup against him. On 24 April he imposed military rule.110 104


The US was impressed with Hussein’s ‘spunk’, and decided to step into the breach that the UK had left in Jordan. Five days after Hussein had re-established himself, the Eisenhower administration sent the Sixth Fleet to the Eastern Mediterranean, and rushed through emergency economic aid of $10 million, in order to aid Jordan in ‘its struggle against communism’. In early June, the US announced an additional, one-time grant of a further $10 million in military aid. By the summer of 1957, the Sixth Fleet and the CIA had ‘picked up where Glubb Pasha and the Arab Legion had left off’. The Americans were now effectively underwriting Hussein’s regime.111

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7 ANGLO-AMERICAN-TURKISH STAFF PLANNING, 1955 TO 1956

In wars throughout history, events have generally proved the pre-hostilities calculations of both sides, victor as well as loser, to have been seriously wrong. (Bernard Brodie)1

Anglo-American differences The United States chose not to join the Baghdad Pact, mainly due to domestic political factors. But it remained no less interested and involved in strategic planning for the Middle East. During the course of 1955, several top-level military staff meetings were held, not only between the US and the UK, but also with Turkey, now the major land power in the Middle East. These meetings, reviewed in this chapter, were all top secret, convened outside the official framework of the Baghdad Pact. They were directed and monitored by the top government levels in each country. Their purpose was to assess the size and state of readiness of their allies in the Middle East and to prepare contingency plans for a defence of the region against a Soviet offensive in the event of general war. The Allies regarded each other at times with a paternalistic disdain. The British believed that their differences in opinion and clashing interests with the Americans were the major obstacle to the successful pursuit of their goals in the Middle East. They regarded the US as a naive newcomer to the region, who would have done better to rely on the wisdom gained by the British from their long, first-hand experience in the region. The Americans regarded their British ally as a spent colonial power, still hankering, pathetically, after vanished imperial glories. They resented what they saw as British efforts to play up the ‘special relationship’, and ‘piggyback on American power’, in order to prop up their waning international influence.2 The British perceived dangerous schisms at the highest levels of the Eisenhower administration. They believed that there were serious contradictions between American high policy as conducted by Dulles’s State Department and the strategic plans for the Middle East being drawn up by the Pentagon. On the one hand, the American military were preparing detailed plans for the use of military 106

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facilities in the Middle East, especially for the deployment of their air forces. These plans involved the use of British air bases, on Cyprus and in Jordan and Libya. This would involve ‘inconvenience and embarrassment’ for the British. However, they were prepared to put up with these ‘inconveniences’, given the supreme importance of USAF’s strategic role in a global war. But British planners warned that their ability to provide these facilities would depend largely upon American cooperation in British redeployment plans from Egypt.3 The British military were apprehensive that the current lack of Allied unity in this theatre might cause them to lose these essential facilities, both in peacetime and in war. The head of the British Joint Staff Mission (BJSM) in Washington, Air Chief Marshal William Elliot, was asked to approach the JCS in order to secure an assurance that their own State Department was ‘aware of the size and scope of current American military planning for the Middle East’.4 London believed that for the past two years the Americans had been encouraging the Egyptians to believe that there was a divergence in Allied views which they, the Egyptians, could exploit. The Foreign Office advised that they would have to resist vigorously the American illusion that the West would be able to reconcile itself with Nasser’s neutralism.5 In addition, the American grant of military aid to Iraq was resented by many British officials as part of a more general plan to supplant the British there. Some feared that American aid to Iraq might impair the UK’s chances of retaining the base facilities that it currently enjoyed in that country under the Anglo-Iraqi Treaty. Allied relations were particularly troubled at the field level. The British ambassador to Iraq, Sir John Troutbeck, a long-serving Middle East hand with many years of prior service at the Cairo embassy, wrote to the Foreign Office in June 1954, castigating American policy in cynical terms: In the short run they may succeed (unless the need for the Jewish vote in an election makes them drop military aid to the Arabs). In the long run their present policy seems bound to weaken not only our position but the Western cause as a whole. Surely it should be put to them that they should either take over the Middle East with all the responsibility that this will involve, as they have taken over Greece and Turkey. Or they should work loyally with us.6 Troutbeck’s comments fell on sympathetic ears at the Foreign Office. One official referred paternalistically to the Americans’ ‘touching belief that they are regarded in the Middle East as being less tarred with the imperialist brush’. The department hoped that once they had removed the Egyptian problem from the Middle East agenda – that is, reached an evacuation agreement – it would be possible then to discuss regional defence with the Americans.7 It is against this background that the various military staff talks conducted during the course of 1955 should be assessed. 107


The tripartite staff talks in London, January to February 1955 The idea of holding joint staff talks to coordinate Allied strategy in the Middle East originated with the British, who became increasingly irritated with American ‘interference’, especially in what they considered to be their own traditional bailiwicks – Egypt and Iraq. The COS were concerned in particular about differences with the Americans over the protracted, drawn-out process of the evacuation of British forces from Egypt. Since mid-1953 they had been insisting on the need to coordinate Allied ‘political, military and economic action’ in the Middle East.8 The Eisenhower administration was responsive to British approaches, because it too was concerned about the situation in the Middle East, especially the increasing Soviet involvement in the area, and their support for the Arabs against Israel. Washington was apprehensive that rising tensions between Israel and the Arabs might at any time lead to a new war. In the spring of 1954, the JCS directed Admiral Robert Carney, the Commander-in-Chief, US Naval Forces, East Atlantic and Mediterranean (CINCELM), to initiate planning studies with the British and Turkish general staffs ‘for the defence of the Middle East in general war’.9 The question of who was to take part in the staff talks brought to the surface existing frictions between the senior (Americans) and junior (British) partners in the Atlantic alliance. Ultimately, the decision to include the Turks in the London talks was imposed by the US upon the UK, under protest. Informal AngloAmerican staff talks held in Washington in July 1954 resulted in a decision to convene tripartite staff talks on operational planning for the Middle East – together with the Turks – in London, in January 1955.10 The COS had pleaded with the Americans to hold bilateral, Anglo-American talks prior to the talks with the Turks, but the JCS suspected British motives. Both sides appreciated that the inclusion of the Turks would imply the recognition of Turkey as a major military power in the region, and thus the end of the UK’s traditional hegemony there. Admiral Radford, chairman of the JCS, feared that if they held bilateral talks with the British first, they would deliberately leak the fact to the Turks, thereby giving offence. Radford suspected that the British would do this in order to undermine the American position in the region, and to refurbish their own declining status. The State Department initially supported the British position. They claimed that prior bilateral talks could be justified to the Turks on the grounds that the UK had wider interests in the region. But Radford insisted that the Turks be included from the outset, as they were involved with all the regional military issues that had to be discussed.11 The British side claimed that any talk of stationing Turkish troops in Iraq might jeopardise the current Iraqi–Turkish talks (which would lead shortly to the formation of the Baghdad Pact). Behind British objections to the inclusion of the Turks lay their apprehension of revealing to them the paucity of British forces in the Middle East, and the fact that no air or land reinforcements were likely to be forthcoming from the UK itself.12 The British had no wish to deceive the

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Americans in regard to their weakness, but were unwilling to expose their true position to the Turks, fearing that they would then make this common knowledge throughout the Middle East and Asia. The British ‘reasoned’ that ‘the Americans, with their knowledge of nuclear warfare, are less likely to be disturbed by our apparent weakness than are the Turks with their more conventional thinking in terms of large armies and conventionally equipped air forces’.13 But Admiral Cassady, the new CINCELM, asserted that the British desire to keep out the Turks was merely a cover for their long-term goal of blocking ‘rising Turkish influence in the Middle East’. In October 1954, the COS finally accepted the American terms, on condition that the talks with the Turks remained informal, and dealt only with operational planning issues. The Americans took care to inform the Turks of their moves, and to take full credit for having insisted on their inclusion. Admiral Cassady received due thanks from the Turkish representative to the talks, General Erdelhun.14 The goal of the tripartite talks was to coordinate strategy in the Middle East. The planners were briefed to determine ‘a concept of operations for the defence of the Middle East along the line of the Zagros mountains’ (see Map 2). In addition, they were instructed to develop plans for the defence of Turkey’s southern and eastern flanks in the event of war, thereby providing defensive depth for NATO’s south-eastern flank. They were required also to make estimates of the requirements for forces and material support that would be needed to secure the base areas and lines of communications (LOCs) required in the Middle East.15 A second round of talks, between the American and British chiefs of staff only, was to follow the tripartite talks. The purpose of this additional round was to draft an Allied concept of operations, sufficiently to the north and east of the Middle East so as ‘to secure the Cairo–Suez–Aden areas, and at least one major oilproducing complex, preferably in the Persian Gulf area, and the Turkish southern flank’. The Allies would also assess current deficits in the forces and equipment required, and recommend ways to make them good.16 The Zagros and the Elburz strategic concepts The tripartite military staff talks were held in secret in London from 18 January until 21 February 1955. The American delegation was headed by Admiral John H. Cassady, CINCELM; the British delegation by Air Chief Marshal P. Ivelaw, Vice-Chief of the British Air Staff; and the Turkish delegation by Lieutenant General R. Erdelhun, the Turkish deputy COS.17 There were two feasible positions at which to resist a Soviet offensive against the Middle East and the Persian Gulf: one, the Elburz position – from Lake Urmia to Tabriz, and on through the Elburz mountain passes, along the southern edge of the Caspian Sea; and two, the Zagros position – from Lake Urmia through the Zagros mountains, south-east, along the Iranian border with Iraq (see Map 2).18 Allied planners had briefed their officers prior to the talks that the Zagros position was to be preferred to the Elburz. The staff officers at the London talks 109


recommended that measures to prepare it and the forces required to defend it should be prepared as a matter of top priority. The Elburz line was physically shorter, and therefore the easier to defend. But the LOC infrastructure leading north from the Zagros to the Elburz consisted of poor roads through difficult terrain, with one single railroad to Teheran. All these logistical problems effectively ruled out the dispatch and maintenance of substantial forces to the Elburz. A defence of the Elburz would have meant longer Allied, and shorter Soviet LOCs. Conversely, a defence of the Zagros would lengthen the Soviet and shorten the Allied LOCs.19 It was appreciated that the decision to make the Zagros, and not the Elburz mountain range the main defensive line would cause an acute political problem with Iran. It would mean asking the Iranians to join the Allies in a strategic alliance (the Baghdad Pact), while accepting the Soviet occupation (if only temporary) of the greater part of their own territory.20 But the defence of the Zagros line was itself contingent upon the hope that the Allied strategic air offensive against Soviet targets in the Caucusus and in northern Iran would cut down the rate of advance and the weight of the Soviet offensive and build-up. If that was achieved, then relatively small, mobile, Baghdad Pact forces would be able to hold up the Soviets at the mountain passes (Ruwandiz, Penjwin, Paitak and Khurramabad) that cut through the Zagros range, and to ‘destroy any infiltration into the open country beyond’.21 In Washington, a working group composed of the departments of State and Defense, including the JCS, was appointed to examine the conclusions reached at the London talks. The group recommended extensions of the Zagros concept to include ‘defensive delaying actions to the north and east of the Zagros’, and the defence of West Pakistan, so as to ensure the use of its air and naval bases for the Allies.22 Once Iran joined the Baghdad Pact in October 1955, British planners tried to make the Zagros concept more palatable to her. They suggested that in addition to holding the Zagros line, covering operations should be carried out by Iranian land forces based initially at the Elburz. Such operations would have the advantage of gaining additional time for the allies to occupy the Zagros in strength. When, as anticipated, the Iranian forces were forced to withdraw from the Elburz, they would fight a delaying action back to the Zagros, covered by allied forces.23 The Soviet threat As noted already, the Soviets were expected to launch their initial, main offensive against the NATO countries in Western Europe. Before undertaking an offensive against the Middle East, the Soviets would first assess the results of their land campaign in this theatre, and of the initial nuclear exchanges between the Western and Soviet strategic air forces.24 If the Soviets did move against the Middle East, they were expected to employ only those forces already deployed in the region, in Turkestan and the Caucasus. Western Intelligence estimated these to be somewhere 110


in the order of 24 divisions and 1,285 aircraft (550 jet fighters, 260 ground attack aircraft, 325 light jet bombers and 150 transport and reconnaissance aircraft).25 However, it was not expected that the Soviet Long-Range Air Force (SLRAF) and Fighter defences would be employed against Middle East targets. They would be fully committed to the strategic air battle. Likewise, the larger part of the Soviets’ naval air forces in the region would be deployed against NATO forces in the Mediterranean, in order to gain control of the Black Sea exits.26 The goals of the Soviet offensive in the Middle East would be to reduce the Allied strategic air threat to the southern Soviet Union; to prevent the build-up of allied forces in the region; to roll up the defences of Eastern Turkey; to deny Middle Eastern oil to the Allies; and to seize as much territory in the region as possible. Conquest of territories in the Middle East would also yield the Soviets warm-water ports and air bases from which to extend the radius of the SLRAF, and ‘vital land and sea communications in the area, particularly in the Mediterranean and Suez areas’.27 Even with the limited forces available to them, the Soviets had the potential to seize parts of Eastern Turkey and the Zagros mountain passes, as launching pads for a full-scale offensive against their major targets in the Middle East.28 British planners expected the Soviets to deploy their forces along the following axes: seven divisions against Eastern Turkey, ten against Western Iran and Iraq, four against Eastern Iran and three against West Pakistan.29 Allied planners could only hazard vague estimates of the damage that Allied nuclear bombing would cause to the attacking Soviet forces. It was hoped that nuclear interdiction would reduce the combat effectiveness of the Soviet offensive by some 15 to 25 percent, and the rate of advance of their follow-up forces by some 50 percent.30 However, notwithstanding nuclear interdiction, light mobile Soviet ground forces were expected to reach the Elburz mountain line within two to four days; the leading Soviet divisions were expected to reach the Zagros mountain passes within about three weeks.31 Allied force levels and deficits At the tripartite staff talks in London, there was prolonged debate about the number of divisions needed to hold the Zagros line against the Soviets. The estimates made by the Turkish officers were consistently higher than those of the Americans and the British. It was agreed initially that 12 divisions would be needed to hold the Zagros line. After some bargaining, the British and American planners decided that it was possible to reduce this estimate to an absolute bare minimum of seven and one-third divisions. The Turkish side insisted that a minimum of nine and one-third divisions would be needed. Everyone agreed that a force of five divisions at the passes might be sufficient – the disagreement was on the number of divisions that would be needed in reserve. The UK and the US agreed that a mobile reserve of two divisions would be sufficient, while the Turks insisted on four.32 111


The question of assessing the force contributions to be made by each indigenous country provoked a dispute, between the UK on the one side and the US and the Turks on the other. The British officers had been briefed not to get into detailed force requirements, in order to ‘avoid revealing our weaknesses . . . and . . . the fact that reinforcements are unlikely, in the event, to arrive from the U.K.’33 Following the talks, the COS warned that unless they made a drastic revision of their own re-deployment plans and ensured the timely arrival of Commonwealth reinforcements, the British contribution to the Baghdad Pact was certain to be ineffective, and ‘inadequate to fulfil our commitments under the pact or to maintain our influence and position in the Middle East against the growing interest of the United States’.34 The British staff officers objected that the three countries represented at the London talks could not commit the forces of those countries not present. A compromise was reached, whereby it was agreed to list the force ‘availabilities’ of each country. The US was not ready yet to commit any of her own forces to the Middle East theatre.35 The British included a full armoured division in the estimates of their forces available, even though it was deployed currently in Libya, from where it could not possibly reach the Zagros front until D ⫹ 42. The Jordanians had one infantry division and a mobile desert brigade. Iraq was to contribute three divisions, and Iran and Pakistan one each – a total of about six indigenous divisions. However, it was realized that it would take years before the indigenous units could be deployed, fully manned, equipped and trained at their battle stations.36 The Turkish contribution presented its own particular problems, given that Turkey was already a member of NATO. Three Turkish divisions were currently committed to the defence of southern Turkey. The British planners hoped that these three divisions could eventually be redeployed to the defence of eastern Turkey, on the line Mardin–Urfa–Diyarbakir. But the British Chiefs doubted if the Turks would be able to do so without drawing on the forces that they had already committed to NATO. American planners shared British anxieties, and enquired whether the Turks could not raise additional forces. Therefore, the predicted deficit in ground forces stood at between two and four divisions (according to Allied and Turkish estimates respectively).37 The predicted deficits in the air were even greater than those on the ground. As noted already, the MEAF would have at its disposal six squadrons (some 72 aircraft), dispersed across Iraq, Jordan and Aden. Some indigenous air forces, mainly three Iraqi squadrons, might help out, but their professional level remained dubious. This situation was unlikely to change in the foreseeable future.38 The Allies differed in their estimates of the air and sea forces needed for the Middle East theatre. British planners estimated that a total of 528 aircraft would be needed to make an effective defence of the Zagros line. The Americans, who placed greater emphasis on air forces, put the figure at 593. According to British estimates, the Allies currently had a deficit of 422 aircraft; the Americans put it at 487. Whatever the number, these aircraft could be found only by diverting them from other theatres of operations – a most unlikely prospect. British planners 112


posited initially that the naval forces already present in the region would be adequate to protect the ocean routes. But the COS deferred to the view of their American counterparts that there would be a deficit of some 72 naval vessels of various kinds.39 The chiefs of staff on both sides of the Atlantic concurred that the estimates of forces available made by the planners at the London talks were over optimistic, their plans riddled with problems. The COS had given due warning that the Zagros concept would depend upon a number of factors. The first was that Turkish forces make a firm stand on the left flank of the Zagros. The second was that adequate indigenous forces would be found to defend the Persian Gulf, and the gap between the Gulf and the Turkish border. The need for the early arrival of Commonwealth forces was also emphasised, as was the requirement for the construction of a logistical infrastructure for all of the forces to be built up, before a war broke out.40 Upon receiving the report of the London talks, the COS admonished their officers for having over estimated ‘the value and likely availability of indigenous ground forces’. They also warned that Allied planning was handicapped by the limitations placed by various Middle East countries on military preparations, the pre-stocking of stores and equipment, and also by the inability of indigenous military forces to offer any effective resistance to a Soviet offensive without Allied support. The limited logistical infrastructure of the region – poor roads, rail networks, bases, air bases and port facilities, communications systems, and the lack of any radar early warning system was a further adverse condition; and last, but not least, there was the ever-present tension between the Arab states and Israel.41 The British joint planners concluded that the only way in which to overcome the Allies’ numerical inferiority on land and in the air would be to exploit to the maximum the anticipated nuclear superiority of the Allies; and to endeavour to fight the Soviets in a position of their own choosing – at the strategic passes.42 They warned also that in order to meet Allied strategic requirements, and to take full advantage of the topography of each country, they would have to be prepared to ‘sacrifice the defence of [the] national territory’ of some of the indigenous states. For instance, as noted by the COS, the only natural defence line for southern Turkey was the Ante–Taurus mountain range. But a defence of that line would mean giving up Turkey’s richest agricultural area. The planners also had in mind the ‘political’ requirement to defend the Elburz mountains, in order to guarantee Iran’s territorial integrity.43 The JCS compiled their own long list of reservations about the plans drawn up at the London talks. They noted that force requirements were listed by divisions, without any reference to the difference in size of the American, British and other nations’ divisions. They were sceptical also about the remaining military potential of their British ally in the Middle East, and about the availability of the single British division remaining in the region – currently in the process of being scattered across three separate bases in the area.44 In addition, they noted that whereas the London estimates assumed the availability of three Iraqi divisions, 113


the Iraqis currently had only two organized combat divisions. Not only that, but the Jordanian division that appeared in current defence plans was in fact committed in its entirety to the Israeli–Jordanian border. Pakistan would not be able to commit any forces outside of its own borders before 1959; the Turks were finding it very difficult to supply the three divisions that they had already committed to NATO, not to mention the forces they would require for defending their own eastern, northern and western frontiers. And finally, the JCS pointed to the paradox of drafting plans for the pre-stocking of 14 days supplies at 32 pre-selected bases in the Middle East, when it was estimated that 28 of these very same bases were likely to be obliterated on D-day.45 The nuclear factor The major conclusion to emerge from the London staff talks was that the use of nuclear weapons would be the chief factor in ensuring the successful defence of the Middle East.46 Given the grave shortage and inadequacy of the conventional forces that the Allies would be able to deploy in the Middle East for the foreseeable future, they would have to launch an immediate strategic and tactical air offensive against Soviet air forces and base installations. This would, it was hoped, ‘eliminate, or at least greatly reduce, the possibility of reinforcement, support and re-supply from within Russia’.47 If nuclear weapons were not available in the Middle East at H-hour, Allied forward air bases there might incur enormous damage, which might impede or prevent the Allies from delivering their own nuclear attack. It was estimated that Allied attacks and follow-up attacks on Soviet air bases might reduce the Soviet air threat by up to 60 or 70 percent.48 At informal Anglo-American staff talks held in September 1954, the Americans had agreed to consider the provision of ‘a small nuclear delivery capability for deployment in the Middle East on D-day’.49 But since current American law required nuclear weapons to be stored on American soil, they could not possibly be available for the Middle East theatre at H-hour. Unless these laws were changed, the nuclear element for the Middle East would have to be provided by the British. This could be done by arming British Canberra bombers stationed on Cyprus with nuclear weapons. But the Canberras were not due to be stationed on Cyprus before 1960, and were not due to receive their nuclear ordnance before 1959. Therefore, until that date, any Allied nuclear potential for this theatre would have to come from the Americans.50 (British plans provided for two Canberra nuclear squadrons to be stationed on Cyprus by July 1960, and a further two by July 1961.)51 The London talks had listed a requirement for hitting 40 Soviet targets in the Middle East. On the assumption that only 50 percent of the targets would be destroyed on the first attempt, this would mean a requirement for 60 nuclear weapons to be sited in this theatre on D-day. This requirement might increase if targets inside the Soviet Union itself were not destroyed by other Allied commands.52 114


Allied strategic bombing and nuclear interdiction in north Iran and the Caucusus was expected to reduce ‘the speed of advance and weight of the Soviet attack and build-up’. But this was not expected to be significant enough to hold up the Soviet advance for long, or to permit any substantial reduction in the ground forces that would be needed on D-day at the Zagros passes. At best, those forces would merely buy time for Allied reinforcements to be moved up. Even if nuclear weapons were used immediately (a dubious prospect), the leading Soviet elements might be well advanced before the nuclear interdiction had had time to take effect.53 As noted already, these calculations were premised on the use of ‘standard’ 20-kiloton nuclear weapons. The COS suggested that the use of a few higher yield weapons on selected targets might enable the Allies to reduce the number of weapons required and thereby permit a reduction of the air and land forces required to block the Soviet offensives.54

The Anglo-American bilateral talks: summer 1955 The Americans tended to dismiss the British as a spent power in the Middle East and had already earmarked Turkey as the major land power in the region. The JCS advised that the Turks had the only indigenous forces in the region that could offer any effective resistance to a Soviet offensive.55 But the UK was unwilling to reconcile herself to this relegation in status. It insisted that the determination of Middle Eastern strategy was the sole prerogative of the Atlantic Allies. But the Americans differed, and were unwilling to risk giving offence to the Turks for the sake of British pride. The Americans had agreed that the trilateral talks with the Turks would be followed by Anglo-American bilateral talks. In April 1955, the British CIGS, Field Marshal Sir John Harding, told the COS that the main goal of the bilateral talks would be ‘to reach agreement on the United Kingdom and United States’ political and strategic aims in the Middle East as a whole, both now and in time of war’.56 However, the Americans had quite different ideas. At a joint meeting of State Department officials and the JCS, held to consider the next step after the trilateral talks in London, Admiral Radford, chairman of the JCS, warned that: ‘The Turks would resent bilateral US–UK talks, and the danger to US–Turkish relations would not justify acceptance of the British proposal for formal high level talks’.57 Radford asserted that there were no significant differences between the Allies over the strategic concept for the Middle East. But there were two issues dividing them, political and financial in nature. The British wanted first to obtain American recognition that since the UK was primarily responsible for the Middle East theatre, the principal theatre commanders should be British; and second, to secure American financial support for the purchase of British military equipment by their allies in the Middle East.58 Radford’s assessment was supported by Admiral Robert B. Carney, the ex-CINCELM, who now held the position of Chief of the Naval Staff (CNO). 115


Carney asserted that the British no longer had enough power in the region to justify the US taking the risk of offending both the Turks and the Pakistanis (who both refused to accept British command); and they might take offence if the US held bilateral talks with the British. He noted cynically that the UK had in mind a ‘50–50 arrangement’ for the Middle East: ‘a British general and a Turkish army with the US signing the checks’.59 Radford recommended that the bilateral talks with the British be kept ‘informal’. They should not conduct any strategic discussions that might possibly be construed by the Turks as the taking of major decisions behind their backs.60 But some State officials insisted that the bilateral talks were ‘essential’, not simply of ‘possible utility’, as the JCS had intimated. However, the department shared the anxieties of the JCS in regard to the possible Turkish reaction. Therefore, the talks would have to be conducted on ‘a most secret basis’, since there might follow ‘most unfortunate repercussions’ if Turkey or any other states in the Middle East learned of their existence.61 At the next meeting of the NSC, Herbert Hoover Jr, the Assistant UnderSecretary of State, adopted the JCS line. He accused the British of wanting to assure themselves of command in the region ‘in the event of difficulties’, and of expecting the ‘United States to foot the bill required to place the area in some posture of defense’. The meeting accepted Hoover’s recommendation that ‘in view of these transparent British designs’, the US should confine the pending talks to the purely political level, and avoid all further discussion at the military level.62 American policy at the talks was to concentrate for the immediate future upon the completion of the Northern Tier security pact. However, since the US itself did not intend earmarking any military forces for deployment in this theatre, she would not commit herself to the eventual nature of her association with the pact. Given the volatile situation inside the Arab states themselves and the continuing Arab–Israeli conflict, the US would not support any further initiatives to set up a Middle East defence grouping, nor would she offer a mutual defence pact to Israel.63 The American and British delegations to the political talks, held in Washington on 24 June and 11 August 1955, were headed by Under-Secretary Hoover, and Sir Roger Makins, the British ambassador to the US. Hoover made it clear that the US would support the Baghdad Pact with military equipment and a ‘nuclear potential’, but would leave to the UK ‘the political development of the Defence Organisation, the tactical plans, and the physical provision of troops in case of need’.64 After the first round of talks in June, Makins asked London to brief him on the UK’s current and future military potential in the Middle East. The reply, prepared by the JPS in consultation with the Foreign Office, in the summer of 1955, reflects the UK’s persisting delusions of grandeur. The British were quite aware of their country’s military weakness in the Middle East. Indeed, it was decided to be perfectly frank with Makins about their inability to act independently in the region, so that the ambassador ‘should be in no doubt of the value of the hand he 116


has to play’. However, the planners argued that the UK’s potential should be measured not only by the number of men and quality of weapons that it could deploy for global war, but also by the success of her initiative in setting up the Baghdad Pact. Yet when the JPS brief went on to describe the UK’s current position in the Middle East, it degenerated into the old classic colonial insularity, ‘the British have a long experience of dealing with the M.E. peoples and have maintained our influence in the area’.65 The JPS were unable to provide Makins with many of the answers he required. They could not advise him, even for his own information, about the dispatch of British reinforcements for the Middle East. Makins was directed to avoid whenever possible any reference to force deficiencies. This gambit was designed to save him from the embarrassment of disclosing the UK’s weak hand in the Middle East. The UK in fact had no air reserves at all from which to dispatch any aircraft to this theatre. Plans did exist on paper for sending from the UK to the Middle East a full division from the strategic reserve, as well as administrative support for two divisions. But their dispatch would depend upon the speed of the outbreak of war and its progress – how much damage was sustained by the UK itself during the initial nuclear exchange, and how high a priority could be allotted to the Middle East theatre.66 Thus British plans and hopes relied upon the Allied strategic air offensive. Once the planners obtained a more reliable assessment of the damage to be expected from this offensive, it might prove possible to reduce force requirements. As noted already, given that the British Canberra force stationed in the Middle East would not be nuclear equipped before 1959, the entire Middle East strategic concept, and therefore the Allies’ ability to defend this theatre, depended on the Americans’ nuclear contribution. The American officers at the tripartite talks in London had repeated their country’s readiness to supply a ‘theatre nuclear potential’ until the British built up their own. But no concrete commitment had been given, and this cardinal issue awaited further clarification.67

117

8 BAGHDAD PACT PLANNING, 1955 TO 1956

We are prepared for the war we probably will never fight and not for the one which will be lost. (Vice-President Richard Nixon, July 1958)1

The establishment of the Baghdad Pact was the consummation of long-nurtured Anglo-American aspirations to establish a pro-Western security pact of Middle Eastern states. As noted already (chapter 6), the Northern Tier concept had originated with Secretary Dulles. His idea had been to abandon the Egypt-centred, British-sponsored MEC, in favour of a security pact of states that were geographically closer to the Soviet Union, and therefore more sensitive to and apprehensive of the Soviet menace.

Strategic stocktaking by the UK The winter of 1954/55 witnessed two major, interconnected strategic moves by the UK in the Middle East. The first was the final decision and agreement to evacuate the Egyptian base; the second was the decision to join the Northern Tier pact. These moves, followed by the first working sessions of the Baghdad Pact’s various institutions in November 1955, prompted a major stocktaking and reassessment of the UK’s position in the Middle East, and of its economic and strategic interests there. The consummation of the Baghdad Pact forced the UK to determine what financial and military commitments it would be prepared to make to its new ‘allies’ in the Middle East. This review was conducted by the UK’s senior military and civilian officials during the winter of 1955/56. Following the Czech arms deal, there was a general assessment that just when the Cold War appeared to have crystallised into an uneasy status quo in Europe; the Middle East and Asia now appeared to present ‘soft’ opportunities for profitable Soviet intervention. The withdrawal from Suez was seen by Foreign Office officials as the major factor affecting their current vulnerability in the Middle East. They believed that it had ‘opened the way to Egyptian trouble making and trouble making by the Russians in Egypt’.2 118

BAG H DA D PAC T P L A N N I N G , 1 9 5 5 TO 1 9 5 6

When the balance sheet was drawn up of the UK’s record in the Middle East since World War Two, the withdrawal from Egypt appeared as the principal factor that had weakened its status in the region, and consequently her ability to influence the future course of events in the region. In retrospect, Sir Hugh Trevelyan, the British ambassador to Egypt at the time of the Suez War, noted in his memoirs that by 1956 ‘the base for defence against the Soviet Union was situated in a country which was now receiving large quantities of Soviet arms and was remodelling its Forces and training methods on Russian lines’.3 The JPS listed the following adverse developments in the Middle East since the end of World War Two. First, there was the series of British withdrawals from their colonial possessions: not only from Egypt, Palestine and the Sudan, but also from the Indian subcontinent – with the subsequent loss of the Indian army.4 They also recognized that the UK’s failure to take a strong line in Iran, and her precipitate withdrawal from Abadan in October 1951 had been regarded universally as a token of British weakness. Indeed, these events had had a direct influence upon Egypt’s decision, taken just four days later, to abrogate unilaterally the 1936 treaty with the UK.5 Then there was the rise of post-war indigenous nationalist movements, especially in Egypt, where Colonel Nasser was now displaying ‘strong neutralist tendencies’. And lastly, the huge influx of money into the region in the form of oil royalties. The British were incensed particularly with the use made by Saudi Arabia of its new wealth to bribe anti-Western and anti-British elements in the region.6 In his report to Prime Minister Eden on the inaugural council meeting of the Baghdad Pact, held in Baghdad in November 1955, Foreign Minister MacMillan went so far as to claim: ‘The situation in the Middle East is being rapidly undermined and corrupted by Saudi money. The agents of King Saud, their pockets bulging with gold, are co-operating everywhere with the Communists against Western interests.’7 British planners had to face the reality that the UK’s dire economic straits eroded its ability to maintain overseas garrisons in order to hold on to traditional positions. To make matters worse, UK vulnerability was increasing at a time when her domestic economy was becoming dependent to an increasing extent on Middle Eastern oil supplies. In turn, this had created an urgent need for the UK to expand the markets for her goods in the Middle East in order ‘to mop up the large quantities of sterling’ that she now paid out for the oil.8 There also existed certain conflicts of interest with the Americans in the Middle East, both in regard to Israel, and also to their ‘competitive commercial interests, particularly with regard to oil’. These issues provided sources of potential friction. The 1954 agreement to evacuate Egypt had transformed the UK’s geo-strategic position in the Middle East. After June 1956 (by which date the last British soldier would have left Egypt), the British would lose their rights to overfly that country. This would create ‘a potential air barrier from Syria to the Sudan’, which in certain circumstances might complicate the movement of British forces by air 119


from west to east. This, combined with the loss of British control over the Suez Canal, would divide the Middle East ‘into a Levant and an Indian Ocean area’.9 As noted by one official, this ‘air barrier’ would create an anomalous strategic and military situation: ‘The oil-bearing areas which we are anxious to protect, and the three likely sources of local war, are on the eastern side of this barrier. But most of our forces are on the western side’.10 The ‘solution’ devised by the JPS was to deploy British striking forces ‘to the south and east of the barrier’, keeping them, wherever possible, in those places on the map which remained ‘red’ (British). Here they would be ‘welcome’, and ‘not under constant pressure to evacuate’. Evelyn Shuckburgh pointed out that the planners had not specified any territories from which British troops should be evacuated. Some Foreign Office officials detected ‘back-sliding’ by the CIGS from the ‘forward strategy’. A look at the map showed that Libya was the only territory that fitted the COS analysis – assuming (correctly) that they were not thinking of evacuating Cyprus. However, Shuckburgh concluded that redeployments to the east need not rule out moving these forces forward to the Northern Tier in the event of war.11 The planners were able to muster but a few favourable developments to balance the negative ones, even if they were substantial. First, Greece and Turkey had been accepted into NATO. Second, Turkey had emerged as a reliable ally of the West and, with Iraq, was playing a major role in building up the Baghdad Pact. And lastly, the Atlantic Allies did have complementary strategic and military goals in the Middle East. However, the Middle East balance sheet remained on the whole unfavourable. The planners concluded that the UK was now in ‘a vicious circle in which a reduction in our ability to influence events leads to a loss of prestige [and means that] we are more and more forced to follow rather than influence events.12 The COS took stock of Britain’s remaining territorial assets in the region. Iraq, the only Arab member of the Baghdad Pact, had since 1955 replaced Egypt as the fulcrum of British interests and strategy in the Middle East. By 1956, they had in fact ruled out the use of the Canal Zone base in war, and planned to give up all further claims to its use when the 1954 Agreement expired, in 1961. The Canal Zone was now deemed to be both too remote from the probable fields of battle in the Middle East, and unlikely to survive an early nuclear (or thermonuclear) strike. Instead, all effort would have to be made to retain the strategic air bases in Iraq, at Shaiba and Habbaniya. In order to maintain what little there was left of its position in the region, the UK would have to take ‘every possible military, political and economic measure . . . to strengthen the power and stability of Iraq’.13 The next highest priority among the UK’s territorial assets in the region was allotted now to Libya. Libya’s desert expanses provided good training grounds for British armoured and air forces. The Middle East armoured brigade was redeployed to Libya from Egypt. This force would act ‘as a deterrent for Egyptian and Russian ambitions in North Africa’. In addition, it was hoped that the presence of British troops on Egypt’s western flank might serve as a curb to Nasser’s Middle Eastern ambitions. But above all, the COS relied on the presence of the armoured 120


brigade on standby in Libya to persuade the Moslem members of the Baghdad Pact of the UK’s intention to support them – even if they knew that in the event of war the brigade would take several days to reach the front. The withdrawal of this force would inevitably erode confidence in the UK’s intentions towards the Pact.14 By the summer of 1956, Jordan had been all but written off by the COS. The Arab Legion was no longer considered to be ‘an effective or reliable force in war’. The COS no longer believed it to be a strategic necessity to station British forces in Jordan. The UK’s strategic requirements in Jordan were now reduced to securing overland transit and overflight rights for forces on their way to the front in north-eastern Iraq; and the use of the Mafraq air base for the strategic air offensive, as a staging post for the transport of stores forward to the front in north-eastern Iraq, and for the support of Baghdad Pact forces. The Anglo-Jordanian treaty was now regarded as a military embarrassment. The only reason for still trying to salvage any residual British influence in Jordan was political, in order to keep it out of the Egyptian sphere of influence.15 It was feared that any rapprochement between Egypt and Jordan would have a harmful psychological effect upon the UK’s Baghdad Pact allies, and in particular would ‘so isolate Iraq that she would be unlikely to withstand the combined hostility of the remainder of the Arab world’.16 The island of Cyprus, which the British had ‘acquired’ in 1878, now became, faute de mieux, a vital strategic asset, to replace the Canal Base. The island had a limited port capacity and few training facilities for armoured forces. Not only that, but interracial disturbances over the issue of Enosis (union with Greece), forced the British to declare a state of emergency there in November 1955. This cast doubts over the UK’s continued tenure of the island. But the UK’s Middle East headquarters had been located in Cyprus since 1954, and the COS adhered to its plans to build air bases on the island in order to support the strategic air offensive, and the Baghdad Pact theatre of operations.17 In the summer of 1956, the COS saw no way of giving up Cyprus ‘for at least ten to fifteen years’.18 And indeed, ten years later, in 1966, British planners remained determined to cling to the Cyprus Base as the lynchpin of their strategic assets in the Middle East. The roles of British forces to be garrisoned on the island were defined as: 1

2 3 4

To provide a credible and obvious British nuclear contribution to CENTO, thereby helping to maintain the United Kingdom’s influence with the countries concerned and the overflying facilities granted by Turkey and Iran (the CENTO route). To provide a conventional air strike capability both in support of our air plan to assist Kuwait and also to deter Egyptian aggression. To provide a staging post on the CENTO route. To operate and provide cover for SIGINT installations and to provide for the air and ground defence of the Cyprus base.19 121


Nuclear strategy in the Middle East By the mid-1950s, the immediate, wide-scale use of nuclear weapons was regarded by the Allies as their trump card in any future war against the Soviet Union. And by corollary, they regarded the greatest threat from the Soviets in the Middle East to be the extent to which the latter would decide to use their own nuclear capability in this theatre.20 The JPS were confident that the strategic air offensive would devastate most of the infrastructure and the very fabric of Soviet industry, and hamper or destroy their ability to command or control the nation’s economic and military resources. Any Soviet forces that survived the initial Allied attack would depend entirely upon the supplies they had in hand. The Middle East was not considered to be at immediate risk in the event of a general war. All Soviet land operations, whether in Western Europe or in the Middle East would have to be subordinated to the supreme goal of neutralizing the Allies’ nuclear potential. The Soviets would be able to launch only a very limited strategic effort against the Middle East, and would have to devote this to targets of the greatest remuneration: So long as the Allies retain parity or better in nuclear weapons, and the means of delivering them, the main emphasis of their assault will be directed against the strategic air forces of the United States and the United Kingdom.21 Even so, the use of Allied strategic weapons offered the Baghdad Pact powers the only possible means with which they might possibly resist the Soviet threat to the Middle East. If the Soviets did embark on an offensive against this theatre, Allied strategy would be to force them to concentrate their land forces in such density that they presented targets suitable for nuclear attack – while Allied forces remained sufficiently dispersed to avoid presenting targets themselves.22 Applied to the terrain of the Iranian–Iraqi theatre, this doctrine required the launching of nuclear strikes against advancing Soviet forces as they funnelled through the narrow passes that cut through the Taurus and Zagros mountains (see Map 2), as well as against those air bases that serviced the Soviet offensive. British planners hoped that the Allied nuclear strike would so decimate the Soviets’ offensive that the relatively few Baghdad Pact forces on hand would be able to block their advance.23 The strategic concept that the Allies’ nuclear superiority would compensate for their conventional inferiority applied to both the European and the Middle East theatres. It was shared by the Chiefs of Staff on both sides of the Atlantic. For instance, a memorandum written by JCS chairman, Admiral Radford, at the beginning of 1956, entitled ‘Security within the Baghdad Pact’ noted that: The atomic capability and massive retaliatory striking power of the United States are major contributions to the security of our allies . . . The 122


tactical atomic support which can be provided [to] our allies will become increasingly important in offsetting present deficiencies in conventional requirements.24 The British decided also to deploy a ‘tactical nuclear potential’ to the Middle East. Indeed, both the Allies hoped that their promise to the indigenous members of the Baghdad Pact to employ nuclear weapons in the Middle East would reduce their ‘inflated and unrealistic demands for land forces’.25 The only problem with this strategy was that the British would not in fact be able to deploy any of their own nuclear weapons in the Middle East until 1959. And, as noted already, no agreement had yet been reached with the Americans for the deployment of any part of their nuclear capability in this theatre.26 This issue had been under debate between the Allies since mid-1954. The Americans made only vague, non-committal statements of intention. In August 1955, they conceded somewhat and agreed to deploy ‘a small nuclear delivery capability in the Middle East on D-day’, provided reliable storage areas and bases could be made available. In April 1956, the JCS decided to give this ‘high priority’.27 But statements such as these meant little for so long as the Americans refused to commit either ground or air forces to the Baghdad Pact theatre. However, in January 1956 the JCS rejected a British request for permission to inform members of the Pact of this decision. They did so on the grounds that it would encourage the indigenous members of the Pact to rely too much on the American nuclear potential, rather than to build up their own forces. Admiral Radford was not fuly reconciled with the decision. He concurred with the British view that Allied strategy in the Middle East must depend upon the use of nuclear weapons, as well as upon their ability to convince the indigenous members of the Pact that they would do so. He warned his colleagues about the risks of not revealing to their allies their nuclear commitment to the Baghdad Pact area: If we do not encourage the Baghdad Pact powers to take into consideration the over-all effect of our strategic offensive in the event of war, the force goals which they will set for themselves will be completely out of reach. Under these circumstances . . . the countries concerned . . . [might] conclude that their defensive position is hopeless.28 Following the American refusal to allow them to publish the commitment of part of their nuclear capability to the Middle East, British strategists decided upon a policy of deliberate deception – to give their Baghdad Pact allies the impression that British nuclear weapons would be deployed to the Middle East, in quantity, at H-hour. As stated baldly by the planners: ‘It is the primary concern of existing deception plans for the Middle East to cover up this nuclear deficiency by portraying a nuclear capability for our forces in the theatre now.’29 At the meetings of the Pact Council in November 1955, the British delegation duped not only the 123


members of the Pact but also the UK’s principal ally, the US (whose representatives attended as observers) into thinking that they planned to deploy ‘several squadrons of Canberras with nuclear capability to the theater’, and that sufficient nuclear weapons would be available in the Middle East theatre from H-hour.30 Initial British plans provided for the deployment of the nuclear-capable Canberras in the Middle East by 1957. This date was moved back to 1959; the first two nuclear-capable squadrons arrived eventually in 1961.31 The British salved their conscience in part about this deception with the argument that in any case they could not rely upon the security of their Baghdad Pact allies, and would therefore have to avoid disclosing any details (that is, of available force levels, or the deployment of nuclear weapons) which could prove harmful to Western interests if they fell into Soviet hands.32 Besides, the British had the Americans’ promise to deploy part of their nuclear arsenal in the Middle East – even if they were not yet ready to disclose this to the other members of the Pact.33 The Americans believed that the ambivalence of their nuclear commitment to the Middle East would be offset by the fact that in this theatre, they would enjoy a strategic advantage over the Soviets. They intended to unleash the full weight of their nuclear potential, without inhibition. The Soviets would be unable to do the same. The Allies would have no requirements for the re-use of destroyed facilities, either within the Soviet Union itself, or in those territories in the Middle East where they expected the main battles to take place. [Naturally, this aspect of their nuclear strategy was not conveyed to their Baghdad Pact allies!] In contrast, the Soviets would endeavour to inflict the least damage possible to Allied military installations, ports, oil installations and other facilities in the Middle East – which they would require for their own advancing forces.34 The Soviets would need to advance and conquer new territories. They would not be able to fight from prepared positions, but would of necessity have to expose themselves in open terrain. As noted already, the Allies intended to attack their forces at the narrow mountain passes, whose topography naturally favoured the defence. The Allied land commanders would be able to seize opportunities created by nuclear strikes in order to switch rapidly from defence to counter-attack.35 British planners drew up a list of 102 enemy targets for nuclear attack, which were later approved by the Baghdad Pact military planning committee. These included forward and potential redeployment air bases in Eastern Turkey and the Caucusus; and in the southern Soviet Union support facilities such as ports, shipyards and communications centres; and the interdiction of advancing Soviet forces, as ‘targets of opportunity’ presented themselves. The attacks on Soviet airfields were expected either to destroy or severely damage some 75 percent of the aircraft caught on the ground. But since many of the Soviets’ aircraft would already be airborne, it was estimated that only 60 percent of their total available air forces would be destroyed. It was expected that nuclear bombs of one megaton, exploded on each airfield, would put them out of action for a prolonged period, thereby neutralizing them for further use by any surviving Soviet aircraft. In sum, the Allies hoped that the employment of nuclear weapons would reduce 124


the overall size of those Soviet forces that managed to reach the passes by more than 50 percent.36

Baghdad Pact military planning When the CIGS attended the inaugural meeting of the Baghdad Pact in November 1955, he was briefed to the effect that there appeared to be no danger of a global conflict erupting in the short term, especially not as the result of a local conflict in the Middle East. Even if a global war did break out, due to the miscalculation of one of the Great Powers, the Soviets were not expected to undertake any major campaign in the Middle East before they had first taken stock of the results of the initial nuclear exchange, and of their own land offensive against Western Europe.37 The most likely cause of a new war in the Middle East was thought to be the Arab–Israeli conflict. And if this should escalate to open fighting, it was not expected to spread beyond the Middle East. The Allies believed that the most effective deterrent to an Arab–Israeli war would be the issue of a clear warning that they, the Allies, had military plans in hand for intervention against any aggressor.38 Therefore, the UK could afford now to distinguish between its shortterm, Cold War interests in the Middle East, and its long-term strategic concept for the contingency of a ‘hot’ war.39 The inaugural meeting of the Ministerial Council of the Baghdad Pact was attended by the prime ministers of the four Northern Tier states – Turkey, Iraq, Pakistan and Iran – by the British foreign secretary, Harold MacMillan, and by a high-ranking American delegation: the American ambassador to Iraq, Waldemar J. Gallman, who was designated special political observer, together with two American officers, Admiral John A Cassady (CINCELM) and Brigadier General Forrest Caraway, who sat in on all meetings in the capacity of military observers. Ambassador Gallman announced his government’s intention to establish a ‘permanent political and military liaison with the Council’, and to participate as observers at sessions of the Pact’s economic committee. He was invited to attend future meetings of the Pact Ministerial Council as an observer.40 The first Ministerial Council formally adopted the name the ‘Baghdad Pact’. It decided to establish a permanent council at ministerial level, that would meet at least once a year, and a council of permanent deputies at ambassadorial level (on the NATO model), that would meet several times annually. A permanent secretariat was established with its offices in Baghdad. A committee to promote the economic development of the member countries was appointed and scheduled to convene by mid-December 1955. It was agreed to hold the next full meeting of the Ministerial Council in Teheran, in April 1956.41 The inaugural meeting of the Council also appointed a military committee which, on the British and American model, appointed a Joint Planning Staff subcommittee. The planners were scheduled to hold their first session by mid-January, and commissioned to draw up, by mid-March 1956, a paper that 125


would provide: 1 2 3 4

An estimate of the threat to the Middle East area. An appreciation of the military situation in the area. A concept of operations for the defence of the area. Ways and means of increasing the effectiveness of the mutual efforts of the signatory states.42

Even if the Eisenhower administration declined to join the Pact officially, it regarded it no less than the British as a vehicle on which to base its military and strategic planning for the Middle East. American representatives sat in as observers on all the important committees of the Pact, most significantly, those dealing with economic and military planning. In April 1956, at the Ministerial Council meeting in Teheran, Loy Henderson, head of the American delegation, was offered a seat, with observer status, on the newly-formed Counter- Subversion Permanent Working Committee. The State Department duly authorized Henderson’s attendance.43 But the initial enthusiasm and euphoria generated by the first meeting of the Pact Council was followed shortly by disillusion. The UK and the US soon concluded that each of the indigenous member states regarded the Pact primarily as an instrument with which to further their own national (parochial) agenda. Air Vice Marshal Stephenson, the British representative to the Military Deputies Committee, which convened in January 1956, reported that the primary concern of those present had been to guarantee ‘the integrity of their land frontiers and the establishment of force requirements to secure these’.44 The British JPS concluded that the indigenous members of the Pact intended to use the planning studies ‘as a vehicle to justify, on purely military grounds, their requirements for improved roads and railways, new ports and the development of heavy industry’.45 This view was shared by the senior American delegate to the military talks, Admiral Cassady, who reported back to the JCS in April 1956: The Iranians, Pakistanis and Iraqis are as yet more concerned in the justification for and the buildup of their own individual defense requirements (and in receiving priority military aid) than they are concerned over the defense of the Mid East as an area.46 The American observers reported back to Washington that the ‘inexperience and lack of organization’ of the indigenous states was ‘appalling’. The work of their military deputies was hampered by ‘national beliefs and pride, and the inexperience of the military planners other than the United Kingdom’. To make matters yet worse, the majority of the Turkish, Iraqi and Iranian planners did not understand the English language. The result was that the British dominated the work of the committee, their representatives did most of the work, with the others ‘merely talking and sniping at drafts produced by the UK’.47 At the same time, the Iranian, Pakistani and Turkish members of the pact council had at an early stage each confided to the Americans ‘their distrust of and lack 126


of confidence in the British’, and warned that they would never agree to the latter’s attempts to ‘run the show’. They repeated their expectation that the US would itself shortly join the Pact.48 Historic rivalries and distrust between members of the Pact also presented problems. Although Turkey and Iraq had taken the initial steps to establish the Pact, the Iraqis remained apprehensive about the Turks’ military preponderance. Their fears would effectively prevent any peacetime joint military manoeuvres between the two countries. The movement of Turkish troops into Iraq was not politically acceptable to the Iraqi parliament, so war plans that would perforce include this eventuality would have to be kept secret.49 Pakistan’s demands for forces to defend her territory against an aggressor were regarded by the Allies as excessive. The Pakistanis insisted that the Soviet threat to their country was not subsidiary, and that the Soviets would launch a full-scale offensive against them in order to reach the eastern end of the Elburz line. They insisted also that once the Pact planners had concluded their studies on the threat to the area in a global war, they should also study the threat posed to Pakistan by Afghanistan and India. They insisted that India presented a serious threat to them, especially if they became involved in hostilities with Afghanistan. Their demands embarrassed the British, since both India and Pakistan were members of the British Commonwealth. The British feared the consequences should India ever discover that they were concerting military plans with Pakistan against her as a potential aggressor. But above all, Pakistan’s preoccupation with the potential threats from its neighbours meant that it radically reduced the forces that it was willing to place at the disposal of the Pact.50 British planners tried in vain to reduce to logical proportions the extent of the threats to Pakistan, and to persuade the Pact members that the Allied strategic air offensive would reduce the overall Soviet conventional threat.51 But the Pakistani officers were adamant, and British planners referred with despair to their exorbitant demands: They [the Pakistanis] would not be convinced of the lack of logic in, or operational impossibility of, any of their arguments, their object being to make the threat as large as possible and to carry the planners of other countries with them.52 Perhaps the most significant, and the most difficult to meet, of the indigenous members’ demands was that of Iran. As anticipated, Iran insisted on moving the Pact’s defensive line to the north-east, from the Zagros to the Elburz mountains – thereby covering most of Iranian territory (see Map 2). It will be recalled that at the tripartite staff talks held at the beginning of 1955 the Allies had defined their Middle Eastern strategy as one that would ‘establish defensive positions covering the passes over the Zagros Mountains and . . . rely on the effects of our strategic air offensive and of a theatre nuclear bombing offensive to weaken the enemy’s striking power’.53 127


The Iranian delegate now argued that the Pact should seek as far as possible to confine the Soviets to within their own borders. However, as noted by the American observer, the defence of the Elburz position would not only lengthen the allied LOCs, but would also require more support forces.54 The UK and the US conceded that a forward defence on the Elburz mountains might be the right strategy for the long term – although it was quite beyond their resources in the short term. Further, the Elburz strategy would not become a practicable proposition until Iran agreed to the stationing of pact forces on her territory in peacetime, and until they had constructed defensive positions and forward base depots for the pre-stocking of supplies.55 But the Allies had agreed that the Elburz concept, even if it was a military utopia, could not be rejected out of hand, for political reasons – that is, it was a sine qua non for keeping Iran inside the pact. They agreed, therefore, between themselves, on a compromise. Current plans would provide for ‘covering forces’ at the Elburz, and the construction of ‘final defensive positions at the Zagros mountains’. This formula underwent a ‘cosmetic’ amendment in April 1956, when the pact’s planners, at the Iranians’ insistence, agreed to establish ‘defensive positions along the Elburz, with supporting positions in the Zagros mountains’.56 The Turks supported the Iranian position, but the Iraqi delegate supported the Anglo-American concept. Presumably, this was because the defence of the Zagros mountains, which ran along the Iranian–Iraqi border, would best defend Iraq’s territorial integrity. Ultimately, the pact members had no choice but to concede that a defence of the Elburz position was currently too ambitious, and would not become operationally feasible for years to come. The Shah of Iran conceded, in private conversations with the Americans, that the defence of the Zagros mountains was the only practical plan for the present. The Elburz concept remained therefore an ‘ultimate concept’, a basis for long-term planning.57 Following the decisions of the Pact’s military deputies committee in January 1956, British planners redefined their Middle East strategy as being ‘in conjunction with our allies, to meet and hold the enemy land forces in the passes leading from Persia to Iraq’.58 After further staff work, they spelled out the details: to hold defensive positions along the edge of the mountains in Eastern Turkey, Azerbaijan, the Elburz and the north-west frontier of West Pakistan. Supporting positions to be developed in the area of the mountain passes in western and south-western Iran which lead into the plains of Iraq and the Straits of Hormuz, and in the areas covering the approaches to West Pakistan.59 When discussion turned to the size of the forces that each pact member would commit to the Middle East theatre, the American observers became irritated with the British insistence, ostensibly on grounds of security, that no figures be specified. Thus the Pact’s planning lacked perhaps its most vital element – a realistic assessment of its members’ ability to support and execute the strategic concept agreed upon. 128


The American observers feared that the strategic concept was far in excess of what the Pact members could actually afford, and that they, the US, would be faced with exorbitant requests for military aid – for the execution of grandiose plans, in the drafting of which they had taken no responsible part. This provided yet another occasion for the officers in the field (on this occasion, the American military attaché in Baghdad, Colonel Henry P. Tucker) to urge upon Washington that the US should join the Pact immediately. Failing this, Colonel Tucker urged that the US should formally make its position known, and ‘prepare for secret but active participation’ at the next round of planning conferences.60 In April 1956, the Pact’s Military Committee held a further round of meetings in Teheran, concurrent with the sessions of the Pact’s Ministerial Council, convened in the same city. After much pressure and ‘cajoling’ by the American observers (Admiral Cassady again headed the American delegation), the committee agreed to work out an interim capabilities plan to cover the period until 1957, which would include a ‘determination of forces’ required. The Americans hoped that this would force all members of the Pact, including the UK, to make force commitments, upon the basis of which realistic plans might then be drafted. These would be considered at the next meeting of the Military Committee, scheduled for October that year. Finally, they would be ratified by the full council at its next scheduled session, in Karachi, in January 1957.61 The decision of the committee that each member of the Pact should specify its force commitment came at a moment of truth for the British. This had been foreseen by their planners who, prior to the Teheran meetings, had advised their superiors: Although we must avoid detail during the Teheran meeting, the time is approaching when, in order to avert a breakdown in military planning, the United Kingdom will have to state clearly what military aid she is prepared to give to the Baghdad Pact in global war.62 The British government had now to determine just how much in terms of the investment of national resources the continued existence of the Pact was worth.

The British commitment to the Pact It has been asserted that the UK’s membership of the Baghdad Pact, and the façade that it presented to cover up its military weakness, were nothing more than ‘an attempt to fix another layer of prestige and credibility’ to its ‘declining economic and military power’.63 This judgement makes a travesty of the UK’s very real economic, political and strategic interests in the Middle East and along the Northern Tier during the Cold War. Undoubtedly, the UK’s membership of the Pact also helped to sustain the belief that it still had a major role to play in this region. But in sum, this all amounted to far more than the pathetic effort of a spent colonial empire to sustain the vestiges and appearances of power in the Middle East. 129


This was not simply a theoretical issue for the British government. The question of the nature of British support for the Baghdad Pact, whether it was political or military, also involved the very concrete issue of budgets. The issue was frequently the subject of inter-ministerial debates between the Foreign office and the War Office. For example, following the government’s decision in 1957 to provide an expensive, early-warning radar system to Iran, there ensued a debate between officials at the Foreign, War and Defence Offices, about which ministry was going to foot the bill. In June 1957, Foreign Secretary Lloyd announced the decision to a session of the Baghdad Pact Council meeting held in Karachi. Mr R.G.K. Way, Deputy Under-Secretary of State at the War Office, wrote to Sir Richard Powell, the Permanent Secretary at the Ministry for Defence, defining the principles guiding British overseas spending: Anything which makes for the defence of the U.K. or of the Commonwealth as a whole is a legitimate charge on the defence Budget. But it is no part of the function of the defence votes to secure e.g. the strengthening of political ties with other countries, or the defence of foreign regimes, even if the expenditure is on defence items.64 Way recalled that under the recently-abrogated Anglo-Jordan Treaty, the Foreign Office vote had paid the annual subsidy to the Jordanian government, from which it had retained the Arab Legion; but the War Office had borne the costs of those special units of the Legion which, together with British forces, were earmarked for the strategic defence of the region. With regards the question whether the UK’s support of the Baghdad Pact was political or military, Way concluded: If its [the Pact’s] aim is to secure political solidarity among the participating states then the Foreign Office vote should bear the consequential cost. If its purpose is to secure some effective military action against aggression, then it is not unreasonable that the defence budget should bear the cost. I suppose that we must regard the pact as both political and military, in which case the right answer is for the defence budget and Foreign Office votes to share the expense.65 (my emphasis) The two military departments agreed that the early-warning radar system would serve British strategic interests in this theatre, and agreed to bear the costs (up to £1.5 million per annum).66 A recent study of the UK’s bomber strategy during this period included the following analysis of the ‘politico-military’ nature of the UK’s commitment to the Pact: Although the aims of the Pact were as much political as military, it was designed to encourage American involvement in the defence of the Northern Tier and to secure British facilities in Iraq, [and] the British did regard it as a proper military alliance.67 130


The nature of the Allies’ nuclear contribution, in compensation for the paucity of their conventional commitment, has been explained in the previous section. As noted already, British planning provided for the deployment of four squadrons of nuclear-capable Canberra jet bombers on Cyprus by 1959. In addition, the RAF required bases in the Middle East for the dispersal of some of its V-bomber fleet, in order both ‘to decrease their vulnerability and [to] complicate the task of the Russian air defence system’.68 However, had the British determined their policy in the Middle East on the basis of current military considerations alone, it is doubtful that they would have joined or remained in the Baghdad Pact. By the mid-1950s, existing economic interests and political considerations were no less, and quite possibly more, important than purely military or strategic calculations. The ability to influence events in the region during the Cold War was considered to be more important than the UK’s military capacity to halt what was now considered to be the distant prospect of a Soviet military offensive against the region.69 This was stated clearly in a brief written by the JPS at the beginning of 1956: Under present conditions the primary problem in the Middle East is not to build up a suitable organisation to combat the Soviet threat in global war. It is to prevent direct or indirect Soviet action [i.e. subversion] from undermining the Middle East stability in peace, and thus threatening our vital oil interests and frustrating our hopes of holding the area in war.70 The UK regarded her Cold War interests and ‘hot’ war strategic goals as being inextricably linked. It had to keep in mind not only its current economic interests in the region during the Cold War, but also its long-term strategic interest in building up a pro-Western military base from which to repel a future Soviet invasion. This strategic concept was shared by the US, and formed the principal agenda of recurrent talks conducted by Allied military planning staffs on the Middle East. The Allies appreciated also that the allegiance of the Moslem members of the Baghdad Pact was a function of their continuing conviction that they, the Allies, could and would protect the individual territorial integrity of each of the member states. If the West failed to retain the allegiance of the region during the Cold War, they would have no base from which to repel a Soviet offensive in the event, however distant, of a global war. As noted by the COS: ‘We cannot ignore the attitude of our allies who measure the value of these pacts not only from the political and economic standpoints but also as guarantees of the integrity of their land frontiers’.71 The COS believed that the collective military preparations of the Pact would have a deterrent effect upon the Soviets – which would make them realize that any aggression in the Middle East could lead to global war. Therefore, in order both to guarantee her current interests during the Cold War, and to serve her long-term strategic goals in the Middle East, the UK determined to build up a façade (as convincing as possible) of military preparations in the region.72 131


Following the meetings of the various Pact committees in Teheran in April 1956, British planners undertook a major review of the UK’s strategic interests in the Middle East, whose major goal was: ‘To determine in broad terms the minimum United Kingdom military commitments necessary to maintain the Baghdad Pact as an effective organisation and their financial implications’.73 The planners warned that unless the UK made a sufficient investment of men and money in the Middle East it risked losing any remaining influence it still retained in the area: Unless we are seen to be prepared to undertake not only measures for improving the peacetime military capabilities of the Pact countries, but also such preparations for global war as will convince both our allies and the Soviets that our military support is in earnest, the former may well lose faith in our intentions. The Baghdad Pact would then cease to be an effective instrument of our policy in the area and, in fact, might cease to exist at all . . . it is only by ensuring that Baghdad Pact military preparations are geared to the possibility that global war might occur that any sense of purpose can be engendered.74 It was the Cabinet’s responsibility to determine how much of the nation’s resources would be devoted to the effort to guarantee the continued existence of the Baghdad Pact. By 1956, the UK’s interests in the Middle East could have been defined in one word – oil. In July of that year, the Cabinet defined the nation’s ‘essential aims in the Middle East’ as being ‘to safeguard our vital oil supplies, prevent war and support the Baghdad Pact’.75 Not only was the British economy now dependent upon Middle Eastern oil for the lubrication of the wheels of its industry, but the Exchequer relied to an increasing extent upon the substantial revenues derived from the government’s oil concessions in the region. The Pact had become the principal instrument with which the UK was hoping to retain the goodwill and cooperation of the two major oil-producing countries within the British sphere of interest – Iraq and Iran.76 In a further decision, the Cabinet endorsed the COS recommendation that the nation should risk war in the Middle East only in accord with a United Nations resolution, and for the following goals: to support a NATO or Baghdad Pact ally attacked by the Soviet Union; to secure oil supplies from the Middle East; and to ensure the continued use of the Suez Canal.77 British planners were quite aware that the UK by itself did not possess the economic and military means with which to defend the Middle East against a Soviet attack. In the event of a general war, she would be unable to send any air or ground reinforcements to the Middle East for at least the first six months. It would take a considerable time even to redeploy those units already dispersed around the region to the front lines in northern Iraq. The COS believed that the UK’s principal military contribution to the defence of the Middle East would have to be in the air. The land defence of the region would have to rest initially upon 132


those forces that the indigenous members of the Pact could put into the field. Finally, the planners reconciled themselves to the fact that given the UK’s current inability to provide any D-day land forces, the Pact members would be unlikely to accept a British commander in the field – unless they failed to agree among themselves – even if they still hoped that a British officer would receive command of air operations in this theatre.78 Final British plans for the support of the Baghdad Pact fronts in the event of a general war were drafted in August 1956. They provided for the despatch on D-day of two troops of Royal Engineers to aid the Iraqis with demolition operations at the Zagros passes; and a force that would engage in the demolition of oil installations, to prevent them falling intact into Soviet hands. British fighting forces were scheduled to reach the Paitak Pass within three to six weeks of D-day: one brigade group was scheduled to arrive within D ⫹ 10–25 days; and an armoured regiment by D ⫹ 45 days.79 The indigenous Pact members were quite aware that neither British nor American fighting forces could reach the Middle East fronts on D-day. They were prepared to face the initial Soviet onslaught themselves – provided that their forces received substantial Western (that is, American) equipment and significant support from Western air and naval forces.80 The goal of the Allied air campaign in the Middle East was defined now as ‘in conjunction with the strategic air campaign, to destroy the Soviet air and nuclear threat to the area and to interdict the Soviet build-up, support, and lines of communications’.81 For the short term, the RAF contribution would be their current Middle East garrison. This comprised ‘five fighter-ground attack (FGA) squadrons and one photo and one fighter reconnaissance squadron’. In addition, four light bomber squadrons, currently stationed at Aden, would also be committed. Two of these were to be re-equipped shortly with Canberras. By 1957, the other two squadrons were to be re-equipped with Canberras, to be taken from British air forces allocated to NATO forces in Europe. Most of this air force would be deployed to north-eastern Iraq by D-Day ⫹3.82 Pakistan was the only indigenous Pact member with a navy, but that would be committed entirely to the route between the two, partitioned halves of the country. The maritime defence of the Arabian Sea and the Persian Gulf would fall entirely upon British naval forces. Given the UK’s vital interest in these sea lanes, it would have to take on the initial responsibility for their defence, including maritime reconnaissance.83 In conclusion, the COS warned that the force commitments they were proposing were the minimum necessary if the UK wished to adhere to the forward strategy at the Zagros passes. This strategy was itself beset with the risks involved in long, hazardous and vulnerable LOCs. The only way to reduce those risks, would be to build-up a stockpile of equipment and supplies in north-east Iraq. The stockpile would serve also as ‘much needed evidence to the Baghdad Pact powers that we really mean to come to their aid’. But above all, the COS 133


warned that: ‘Without a stockpile any operation in the Zagros will be militarily hazardous in the extreme.’84 In terms of financial expenditure, the planners asked for £500,000 (plus a further £55,000 annually for maintenance) in order to stockpile equipment in Iraq for the brigade group earmarked for that front; for up to £2 million annually to finance the construction of Pact military infrastructures; and up to £115,000 per annum as the British contribution to the Pact’s permanent staff structures.85

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9 ALLIED INTERVENTION IN A MIDDLE EAST WAR, 1955 TO 1956

In preparing for battle I have always found that plans are useless, but planning is indispensable. (Dwight D. Eisenhower)1

The clouds of war The first Arab–Israeli war in 1948 resulted in a clear Israeli victory, but did not generate peace treaties between Israel and any of her Arab neighbours. Indeed, the latter frequently threatened a ‘second round’. The Allies were concerned that Arab terrorist attacks inside Israel (between 200 and 300 Israelis were killed between 1948 and 56) and consequent Israeli retaliation raids might escalate into a full-scale war in the Middle East.2 The UK and the US had good reason to dread being confronted with the impossible choice between siding either with Israel or with the Arabs in the event of war. In May 1950, the UK and the US, together with France, had signed a Tripartite Declaration, guaranteeing the status quo in the Middle East. But each of the Allies had their own agenda. Since the early 1950s, the UK had tried to secure American military involvement in the Middle East, to shore up its own faltering position. For its part, the US was concerned not to become identified in this region with a declining colonial power, whose continuing presence was inflaming the indigenous, burgeoning nationalist movements. Air Chief Marshal Sir John Slessor, Chief of the Air Staff (CAS) from 1950 to 1952, in a private and confidential memorandum written in January 1957, expressed graphically the pique felt by many British officials and officers who dealt with the Middle East. In referring to his own term as CAS, he wrote: I was constantly irritated almost beyond measure (though there can be few British Officers who know and like America better than I do) by the unhelpful and sometimes almost openly inimical attitude of the State Department and their usually very amateur ‘diplomats’ in the Middle East – in Turkey and Egypt particularly. It was of course based on their extraordinary sentimental, outdated and anyway (though they do not 135

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realize it) hypocritical obsession with the evils of British ‘Colonialism’; and high-lighted by the occasional almost incredible gaucherie, like Dulles presenting Neguib with a silver plated pistol the day after he described us as ‘the enemy’.3 British interests in the Middle East were sui generis. The UK had a specific treaty commitment to defend Jordan and was concerned, in particular, about an anticipated Israeli aggression against its protégé. The UK was convinced that Israel was determined to conquer Palestine’s West Bank, occupied since the 1948 war by Jordan. In that event, the UK would be unable to stand aside and allow its ally to be defeated. The British Military had been drafting contingency plans for coming to Jordan’s aid in the event of an Israeli attack since 1954. These were based on a Joint Intelligence Committee (JIC) assessment, written in May 1954, on the eve of the Anglo-Egyptian Agreement to evacuate Egypt. The JIC reported that there was a ‘definite risk of Israel embarking upon war against Jordan’ (but ‘little risk’ of Jordan attacking Israel). Israeli fears of the UK intervening on the side of Jordan under the Anglo-Jordan Treaty were thought to be a considerable deterrent, but Israel might still, through the deliberate escalation of border incidents, risk war ‘in the hope that she could defeat the Arab Legion and occupy the West Bank before British assistance to Jordan became effective, especially if the British were hampered by redeployment or other commitments’.4 Western fears of a new war in the Middle East increased appreciably during the first months of 1955. At the end of February, an Israeli military raid against Khan Younis (an Egyptian police post in the Gaza Strip), inflicted heavy and humiliating casualties on the Egyptian forces (see chapter 6). The State Department feared that this presaged a general Israeli offensive against the Strip, with the goal of annexing it. This would have the advantage for Israel of shortening her border with Egypt. British planners saw the Gaza attack from a different perspective. They interpreted Israel’s action as the first tactical step in her grand strategic design to expand her territory to the east, to her natural geographic border, the River Jordan. The British believed that even if fighting did start in the south, it would spread inevitably to Jordan.5 Tension peaked in September 1955, following the announcement of the Czech arms deal for Egypt (see chapter 4). Nasser’s announcement of the deal had ‘an immediate and electrifying propaganda effect’ on the Arab world. As one scholar of Egypt has noted, the deal ‘catapulted Nasser to a position of prominence among the Arab heads of state long before Suez was to secure him at least the temporary adulation of the Arab masses’.6 The general consensus in the West was that within six to nine months the Egyptian army would become proficient in the use of the new weapons. At that time, Nasser was likely to attack Israel, in order to reverse the humiliation of 1948. It was equally clear that Israel could not be expected to sit back and wait for that to happen. Within the coming months Israel was likely to initiate a preventive war 136


against Egypt, before the Egyptian army and air force menaced her very existence. In November 1955, the British Joint Intelligence Committee drew up an assessment on ‘The Likely Course and Scale of an Israeli Attack’ on the Arab States in the near future.7 At the end of the year, consultations in London and Washington at the highest levels led to unilateral and joint staff planning that continued until the summer of 1956. The plans drafted were designed either to deter aggression in the Middle East or, failing that, to provide for a coordinated Allied military intervention to halt the hostilities.8 In January 1956, Dulles wrote to an American diplomat, Robert Anderson, engaged at the time in shuttle diplomacy between Egypt and Israel: ‘It is imperative for us to know soon whether or not settlement can probably be concluded. We would have great difficulty in getting Israel to sit by waiting for six months while Egypt absorbs arms.’9 Israel’s initial reaction to the Czech arms deal was to appeal to the Americans for arms on easy terms, in order to redress the imbalance between herself and Egypt. Israel wanted an American guarantee of her security. At a meeting with Secretary Dulles in Geneva on 26 October 1955 (during a conference of foreign ministers), Israel’s Prime Minister, Moshe Sharett, warned that if American military aid and a security guarantee were not forthcoming, ‘there would be disillusionment in Israel and sentiment for preventive action’.10 At a further meeting with Sharett, on 31 October, Dulles procrastinated, with the reply that the US Defence Department and Cabinet in Washington would have first to consider and discuss the transfer of any arms to Israel. When pressed further by Sharett on the question of the security guarantee, Dulles replied that an American guarantee would be forthcoming only within the framework of a general Arab–Israeli settlement that recognized Israel’s final borders. Finally, Dulles warned that any resort to a preventive war by Israel would erode one of her major assets – American good will.11 (In March 1956, Dulles informed the Israeli ambassador of the administration’s refusal to sell them the most important items requested.)12 The new Israeli Prime Minister (from November 1955), David Ben-Gurion, and Sharett, now Foreign Secretary, were in fact against an early preventive war. However, Moshe Dayan, the Israeli Chief of Staff, apparently tried to force their hand. Dayan believed that it would take the Egyptian army only six to eight months to ‘learn’ their new weapons. In December 1955, Dayan received Cabinet authority to carry out another punitive retaliation raid, this time against a chain of Syrian positions along the eastern shore of Lake Galilee. Dayan expanded the scale of the operation, clearly exceeding his authorization (Israeli forces killed 54 Syrians, including 6 civilians). Dayan had evidently hoped to provoke Egypt to come to Syria’s aid, under the terms of the recently-signed Egyptian–Syrian mutual defence pact. This would have triggered the preventive war that Dayan sought. However, the Syrian reaction was limited and Egypt did not move her forces. Ben-Gurion, supported by his cabinet, now predicated a war against 137


Egypt upon securing the prior diplomatic and military support of at least one of the powers.13 Thus the winter of 1955/56 passed without Israel initiating a major conflict. At the beginning of April 1956, Air Chief Marshal Sir William Dickson, Chief of the British Air Staff from 1953 to 1956, and since October 1955 the newly incumbent chairman of the Chiefs of Staff Committee, flew to Washington on a special mission to discuss joint planning for the contingency of a new war between Egypt and Israel. He offered Secretary Dulles his assessment of the current situation in the Middle East: The Egyptians were undoubtedly cocky as a result of their receipt of substantial military equipment and new weapons from the Soviet bloc, and they probably felt they could now successfully take on the Israelis. The British did not concur in this view, although Dickson stated that the Egyptians now had marked superiority in modern and heavy weapons and aircraft. However, they had not fully assimilated these arms, and the Israeli army was a tough little force which if attacked in the next several months would almost certainly make an initial success against the Egyptians.14 By the spring of 1956, the scenario of the UK having to come to Israel’s aid against an Egyptian aggression appeared about to materialize.

American planning The idea of an Allied military intervention to halt a local aggression in the Middle East was by no means a new departure in the autumn of 1955. The Eisenhower administration believed that the situation in the Middle was highly volatile. The rise of Egyptian influence in the region, together with increasing Saudi pressure on the British-protected Gulf sheikdoms, had ‘uncovered the precariousness of the UK position in the Middle East’. Washington feared that the UK’s very weakness might lead it to resort to ‘drastic and even desperate action’ to reassert her influence in the region.15 American officials had been discussing a contingency of the possibility of a new local conflict in the Middle East since early 1954. In July of that year, President Eisenhower approved a ‘Supplementary Statement’ to NSC 5428, the basic document on American policy in the Middle East. The intention of the supplementary was to specify what had been meant by the resort to ‘immediate action’ provided for by the Tripartite Declaration of May 1950. In addition to calling for economic reprisals against that party judged to be the aggressor, the new statement called for consultations with the UK and other nations on whether to impose a blockade, and/or ‘to use military force to compel the attacking state to relinquish any territory seized and to withdraw within its own borders’.16 The State Department and the Pentagon traditionally had been divided over the extent to which the US should become involved in the event of new hostilities in 138


the Middle East.17 The State Department, together with the CIA, had in 1954 favoured ‘prompt and direct military intervention’ by the Allies against troop concentrations by either side, to avert or counter any major armed attack by either Israel or the Arab States. But the JCS, supported by the Department of Defense, opposed planning for any active military intervention, other than a maritime blockade. The JCS estimated that 500,000 troops would be required for a successful intervention by ground forces. This would require large-scale transfers of forces from other theaters. They suggested that if intervention did prove necessary, its nature and scale might be decided upon according to the conditions prevailing at the time. The NSC’s Planning Board pointed out that not only did they not have the necessary troops available, but that in any case it would be politically impossible to employ American troops against either Israel or the Arab States.18 In April 1955, following hostile actions along the Gaza Strip between Egypt and Israel, the State Department approached the British with a proposal to take urgent consideration of what action they would be prepared to take in the event that ‘Israel made a deliberate attempt to alter her existing frontier with Egyptian occupied territory’. The State Department mentioned the options of ‘economic sanctions and, in the last resort, military measures’. The Foreign Office agreed readily to discussions with the Americans at the official level, and commissioned the views of the COS on the options open to them in the event of an Israeli aggression.19 By the time the debate was resumed in Washington, following the announcement of the Czech arms deal, the civilian officials had become more cautious than the military about intervention with force – possibly because of their experience with domestic political restraints (that is, the Zionist lobby). In October 1955, American Intelligence estimated that the recent arms deal had dealt ‘a severe psychological blow to Israel’. The new Soviet arms would imbue Nasser with confidence that he could now repel Israeli military raids, and raised the spectre that once the Egyptian army had absorbed the new Soviet weapons Israel would be unable to defend herself. All this pointed to the prospect of an early, preventive war waged by Israel against Egypt.20 The NSC, meeting in Washington on 6 October 1955, directed its planning board to undertake an urgent revision of NSC 5428.21 The revisions were approved by the full body three weeks later. Vice-President Nixon derided any plans for military action against Israel, whether by direct military intervention or even by a maritime blockade, as being ‘very frankly a bluff’. He endorsed Dulles’s opinion, given at the previous Council meeting, that financial and economic sanctions alone should be enough to deter Israel – ‘a blockade of dollars would be more effective than a blockade by boats’. Admiral Radford, chairman of the JCS, suggested that a maritime blockade against Israel might prove ‘very effective’, although less so against Egypt. If military intervention was deemed necessary, Radford preferred aerial precision bombing, ‘to destroy certain key military installations within the territories of the aggressor state’. Radford again warned that any direct intervention with ground forces would require as many as 500,000 troops. Nixon interjected that the Congress would never agree to employ US forces against Israel.22 139


It was agreed to apply economic sanctions against the aggressor: these would include the cessation of American aid, the imposition of a trade embargo, and the blocking of transfers of any American funds or assets to the region (primarily gifts and loans from American Jewry to Israel). The economic sanctions were to be coordinated, where feasible, with the UK, France and Turkey. If it became apparent that the non-military measures were unlikely to avert or bring an end to hostilities, then a maritime blockade would be imposed, with Congressional authority. The JCS objected vigorously to concerting their military planning with the UK or any other nation. Their differences on this point with the State Department were resolved by a loose formula requiring the JCS to study ‘the desirability and feasibility of taking military action’. The JCS planning staff would draft their own plans unilaterally, but in a fashion that would permit their ready implementation in coordination with the British, if and when it appeared that combined military action was needed. President Eisenhower approved these decisions on 2 November 1955.23 The Joint Strategic Plans Group (JSPG), a subcommittee of the JCS, was instructed to prepare the requisite contingency plans. By March 1956, several blueprints had reached an advanced state of planning: for the establishment of a maritime blockade against ‘either Israel or Egypt, or both countries concurrently’; and for military intervention, by both air and ground forces, primarily the air force. In the event of hostilities in the Middle East, USAF would seek first to gain air supremacy, and then warn the belligerents to ground their surviving aircraft and to withdraw their ground forces to behind the 1949 armistice lines. If these warnings went unheeded, American forces would launch air attacks against the aggressor’s air forces; and if these did not bring the desired result, then against his ground and naval forces also. These operations would be carried out by American Naval forces already in the Mediterranean and in the Persian Gulf (one attack carrier force and one amphibious task force); by ground forces deployed from American contingents to NATO (one Army corps of two divisions and a Marine regimental combat team, with support services units); and in the air by one fighter-bomber wing and a tactical reconnaissance flight redeployed from Europe, and one SAC medium bomber wing flying from bases in French North Africa.24 By the Spring of 1956, the Allied consensus was that if Israel did not act soon, the growth in the Egyptians’ military superiority would, in the long term, ‘almost certainly’ induce them to launch a second round against Israel. Indeed, by April 1956, the British and American Chiefs agreed that the most likely scenario for an outbreak of hostilities in the Middle East had become an attack by Egypt on Israel.25 In April 1956, the US Defence and Treasury departments authorized a plan for the dispatch to the Middle East of some 26,000 troops, who ‘could be landed at Beirut, Haifa, Tel Aviv or Port Said’. A sum of $20 million would be sent with the troops, calculated to cover their needs for about ten weeks.26 All American forces – air, ground and naval – would be deployed with their own atomic weapons, brought in where necessary from US bases in Europe.27 140


British planning In London, the seemingly inevitable prospect of a new war in the Middle East evoked an outburst of traditionally pro-Arab sentiment at the Foreign Office. Above all, the officials feared that an Egyptian aggression against Israel would force the UK to come to Israel’s defence, thereby ruining British interests in the Arab world. On 4 November 1955, Evelyn Shuckburgh, the Foreign Office’s ‘expert’ on Middle Eastern affairs, confided to his private diary: ‘Every day the weight of Israel round our necks draws us further down into the mud.’28 A few days later, Shuckburgh showed his Foreign Secretary, Harold MacMillan, and the Permanent Under-Secretary, Sir Ivonne Kirkpatrick, secret reports alleging that Israel was about to attack Egypt. Shuckburgh recorded in his diary that his superiors had ‘half hoped’ that his reports were true, and that ‘the Israelis would attack Egypt, and have a good fight before going under for good’ (my emphasis). In March 1956, at a meeting with American officials, the possibility of an Israeli attack on Egypt was again discussed. Shuckburgh confided to his diary: ‘it would be nice if they [the Israelis] could do it . . . then we could fall upon them as aggressors (my emphasis)’.29 Until the Spring of 1956, the UK believed that Israel was the country most likely to initiate aggression in the Middle East. The British disagreed with the Americans that economic sanctions alone would stop the Israelis. They believed that economic measures would take effect only in the long term.30 The Joint Planning Staff (JPS) estimated that Israel would open its offensive against Egypt with a thrust into Eastern Sinai, designed to ‘encircle and destroy the bulk of the Egyptian Army’. Israel might also bomb Egyptian military installations, especially air bases, in the Canal Zone. With no outside intervention, Israel was expected to complete this operation successfully within two weeks.31 The UK’s main concern was that if Egypt was attacked by Israel, Jordan might come to her aid under the Arab Mutual Defence Treaty of 1950. If Israel then counter-attacked, the UK might find itself obliged by its bilateral treaty with Jordan to come to its aid. The COS insisted that if the UK did intervene between Jordan and Israel (as required by their treaty), it must do so immediately, in order to ‘save’, not merely to ‘resuscitate’ their Arab ally.32 The JPS feared that if Jordan did intervene in support of Egypt, it would provide Israel with just the pretext it was looking for to justify its planned offensive against the West Bank: ‘Israel would hope, by so engineering the situation that Jordan appeared the aggressor, to reduce the risk of United Kingdom military intervention under the Anglo-Jordan Treaty.’33 In contrast to its American ally, the British government had few inhibitions about taking military action against Israel. It was not hampered by an influential, domestic Jewish lobby, with powerful connections inside the legislative. However, the signature in October 1954 of the Anglo-Egyptian evacuation agreement had rendered the UK unable to fulfil its military obligations to Jordan. Since December 1954, with just a single infantry division remaining in the Canal Zone (to be evacuated by

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June 1956), the British were in effect no longer able to mount an effective land operation against Israel from the Sinai desert.34 Therefore, like their American counterparts, British planners now thought in terms of using mainly air and naval power to deter or halt an aggression in the Middle East. Since the beginning of 1955, British plans allotted the major role in any military operation against Israel to the Royal Air Force, Middle East (MEAF). The main reason for British interest in an American military involvement lay in the anticipated aid to be given by USAF planes taking off from aircraft carriers of the American 6th (Mediterranean) Fleet. Initial British plans for taking military against Israel, drafted in late 1955, provided for the immediate imposition of a maritime blockade and the moving to Israeli waters of aircraft carriers and destroyers (the latter to shell Israeli coastal installations). The COS concluded that a maritime blockade alone would not inhibit Israel as it would be able to survive independently for at least six months; Israel’s offensive would therefore not be affected during the critical, ‘early and intense phase of the war’, which was expected to last between two and three weeks.35 British plans also provided for the launching of a full-scale air offensive against Israel the moment that she attacked either Jordanian or British forces stationed in the Middle East. The goals of this offensive would be first to ‘neutralize’ (destroy) the Israeli Air Force (IAF) and disable its airfields, and then to ‘disrupt Israeli land operations’.36 The operations against Israel would be launched from British air bases on Cyprus, from aircraft carriers and, if permission was granted, from Egyptian airfields. However, further staff studies at the end of October revealed that the British Venoms, day fighter/ground attack (DF/GA) aircraft, did not have the range to cover the southern part of Israel and the Sinai desert from their bases on Cyprus. This meant that for the British air plan to succeed at all, they would need to secure base-rights at the Jordanian airbases at Amman and Mafraq (this point should be recalled when assessing the desperate, yet abortive, mission to Amman in December 1955 of the Chief of the Imperial General Staff, Field Marshal Sir Gerald Templer, to induce Jordan to adhere to the Baghdad Pact, see chapter 4).37 In March 1956, following the summary dismissal of Glubb Pasha by King Hussein, all British plans for using Jordanian air bases had to be scrapped. If Israel attacked first, land and air reinforcements would have to be flown out from the Strategic Reserve in the UK; one Wing of swept-winged fighters from the 2nd Territorial Air Force, and two light-bomber squadrons (including Canberras assigned to NATO) and 14 Valetta transport aircraft, would be flown to Middle East bases from the UK and from Europe; one parachute brigade would be flown to Jordan and one infantry brigade to Cyprus. Some forces would be taken from their duties on Cyprus, even at the risk of a possible deterioration in the security situation on the island, until further reinforcements could be flown out from the UK. The Mediterranean Fleet would be concentrated in the Eastern Mediterranean. In January 1956, in anticipation of imminent hostilities in the Middle East, the Cabinet authorized the transfer to Cyprus of two battalions of the reserve parachute brigade held in the UK, and to Jordan, part of the RAF regiment stationed in Habbaniya, Iraq.38 142


Detailed revisions of these plans, drafted in April 1956, provided that following the attacks on the Israeli air bases and on the IAF, further air attacks would be made against the Israeli lines of communications running south from Gaza and Beersheba. It was hoped that these air operations, combined with the shelling of Israeli coastal targets by naval vessels, would bring the Israeli offensive to a halt. Some 64 light bombers, including Canberras, were to be used in the operation, as well as a similar number of Venoms.39 However, by March 1956, Intelligence warnings about an imminent Egyptian attack against Israel had become feverish. American Intelligence warned that: ‘Arab–Israeli hostilities might break out without prior warning.’40 Since November 1955, the British ambassador in Cairo had been transmitting to London reports from a secret source indicating that Nasser was drawing ever closer to the Soviets, and was planning to attack Israel. The British became convinced that the Egyptian leader was waiting only for the final withdrawal of the last British troops from the Canal Zone at the end of March. Once this had removed the last physical restraints upon him, he would feel free to attack Israel.41 JPS planning now switched to what now appeared to be the most likely scenario – that of an Egyptian attack against Israel. The COS approved final operational plans for intervention in April 1956. This was done after a preliminary round of joint staff talks in Washington in late March 1956, and after the return from the American capital of Air Chief Marshal Sir William Dickson in April. Following large-scale Egyptian-sponsored fedayeen* attacks on Israel from 7 to 11 April (see below), Egypt was now referred to as ‘the most powerful and most bellicose Arab State’. The planners warned that Egypt’s absorption of modern Soviet arms had led Nasser ‘to feel dangerously over-confident in the abilities of his army and air force’. The British feared that with the removal of the restraints imposed hitherto by the presence of British troops in the Canal Zone, and by the British officers in command of the Arab Legion, Nasser would now seek a military triumph against Israel, not only in revenge for the 1948 humiliation, but also in order to increase his standing in Iraq and Jordan. A pre-emptive attack by Israel was still considered a possibility, but the risk of this was expected to decline if Western deterrent actions could effect a reduction in Egyptian belligerence.42 For the UK, the prospect of mounting a military intervention against Egypt was fraught with risks that did not attend military action against Israel. The Allies would have to try to isolate Egypt from the rest of the Arab world, for any action that exacerbated Arab antipathy to and suspicions of the West would afford the Soviets further opportunity of penetrating the Middle East. It would also make a peaceful settlement with Israel more difficult. And finally, large numbers of British and American citizens in Egypt would be placed at personal risk, unless Allied forces arrived on the scene quickly and in strength. The COS were aware that it would be difficult to create a deterrent that would not incur some of these risks.43 * The term ‘fedayeen’ (self-sacrificers) was borrowed from that assumed by the Egyptian resistance to the British during the same period.

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The question of the possible closure of the Canal was discussed at length by Air Chief Marshal Dickson and Secretary Dulles, during the former’s visit to Washington at the beginning of April. The British and the Americans had different priorities in the Middle East, and different oil requirements. The British had no domestic sources of oil, and were dependent upon the use of the Suez Canal for the transport of oil from the Persian Gulf to Europe. In contrast, although American oil conglomerates such as ARAMCO reaped huge profits from their Middle Eastern oil concessions, American industry was not dependent upon Middle Eastern oil. Dulles suggested that their planners study the consequences of closing the Suez Canal ‘both indefinitely and for given durations of time’. He proposed that they also study the vulnerability of the Arab states to Allied counter-measures, and the feasibility of shipping oil via the Cape route. Washington tended to believe that the Arabs needed American dollars more than the West needed Arab oil. In particular, Dulles urged that they study the question of how long could the Egyptians manage without her receipts from the canal dues? Dickson replied that the closure of the canal would have a rapid, disastrous effect upon the British economy and the UK’s defence posture. Upon his return to London, the British Chiefs confirmed Dickson’s prognosis, and insisted that a secondary goal of any operation against Egypt would have to be ‘to keep open, or to re-open, the Suez Canal’.44 The British still hoped they would be able to deter the Egyptians by convincing them of the Allies’ determination and ability to intervene. The following measures were suggested: Periodical patrols by aircraft-carriers in the Eastern Mediterranean . . . Periodical flights by wings of fighter bombers and light bombers in the area . . . The continuance of off-shore patrols to demonstrate our ability to impose a maritime blockade. The display of landing-craft in the Eastern Mediterranean, coupled with the availability of United States Marines for land operations. The setting up and exercising of a combined operational headquarters in the area.45 In addition, the planners suggested that they try deterring Nasser by leaking to him information about Israeli military capabilities and their alleged war plans for destroying the Aswan Dam or the Nile barrage. Finally, the COS, like the Americans, now recommended supplying Israel with modern arms via third parties, with the emphasis on ‘quality rather than quantity’.46 If all these deterrent measures failed to prevent an Egyptian offensive, the following steps, in order of progressive severity, including direct military intervention, were tabled: 1 2 3 4

Maritime blockade. Maritime blockade and air operations. A combination of maritime blockade, air and land operations. Military action to safeguard Tripartite nationals and vital interests.47 144


However, like the American Chiefs, the British believed that a maritime blockade against Egypt would be ineffective. An effective blockade would require the Allies to prohibit all nations from using the Suez Canal, or to examine every ship that transited it. But given that the Canal was an international waterway, Allied policing of it would be all but impossible.48 The JPS assumed that if a conflict did take place between Egypt and Israel, it would assume the form of a ‘major land/air battle’ on their common frontier. They reassured their anxious superiors that for the immediate future, the UK would ‘not have to take swift action against Egypt to prevent an Israeli defeat’. The Israeli army, which was ‘of higher calibre and better led’, was expected to hold the Egyptian attack, and to move on to the counter-offensive within two to three weeks. However, each additional month that went by would now tilt the military balance further in favour of the Egyptians, especially if they brought in Soviet ‘volunteers’ to operate their new weapons.49 If the Allies could not impose an effective maritime blockade to halt an Egyptian aggression, then military intervention would be required. But the JPS were now forced to rule out the option of a ground offensive, given the paucity of their remaining land forces in this theatre, and the logistical problems involved. The landing of a force on the Sinai coast behind the Egyptian forces advancing towards Israel would involve an arduous, high-risk amphibious operation. Any move against the Canal Base itself, which was likely to draw off a large Egyptian force in its defence, would call for the reoccupation of the entire canal area, a project that would require huge reinforcements from the UK, and ‘could be effected more economically by sea and air action’. Therefore, land operations would have to be confined to seizing Port Said, as a conduit through which to bring in reinforcements and supplies; to occupying and securing the Egyptian airfields once they had been neutralized from the air; and to taking control of the bridges and ferries across the Suez Canal. Further land reinforcements and heavier weapons would be shipped in as reserves against any counter-attack by Egyptian land forces.50 The Air Force would carry the main weight of any Allied military intervention. The prime targets of an air offensive against Egypt would be the destruction of the runways on the (British-built) Egyptian air bases in the Nile Delta and in the Canal Zone. The next target would be the Egyptian air force, especially the recently-delivered Ilyushin 28 bombers and MIG15 fighters. Once the latter had been neutralized, the Egyptian offensive was expected to lose its impetus. Further attacks from the air on the Egyptian army’s lines of communications through the Sinai desert were expected to bring its operations to a standstill.51 The British believed that they would need a smaller air force to neutralize the Egyptian air bases than that they had planned to use against Israeli targets: four light bomber squadrons (some 40 aircraft, including 20 Canberras that were to be flown out from the UK). The runways would be destroyed with VT fused bombs. Four squadrons (64 aircraft) of Venom DF/GA aircraft and some 24 Meteor fighters would neutralize the Egyptian air force. Reconnaissance and photographic 145


squadrons would supply intelligence. A task force of four aircraft carriers would support the operations.52 Whereas there had been no inhibitions in earlier British planning about using Arab bases to counter an Israeli offensive, the prospect of doing the reverse – using Israeli bases to counter an Egyptian offensive – raised acute political problems. The planning staffs on both sides of the Atlantic warned that at all costs they had to avoid creating the impression that they were fighting openly in support of Israeli operations. This ruled out using (British-built) air bases in Israel. Further, in the event of a military intervention against Egypt, the Allies could hardly plan on having access to either Iraqi or Jordanian bases, which would be ‘too uncertain to be regarded as anything more than a bonus’. Therefore, the JPS concluded that any operations against the Egyptians would have to rely mainly upon bases on Cyprus and Malta.53 The Libyan government was expected to object to Allied use of their air and naval facilities but, the planners commented enigmatically: ‘Military necessity . . . would demand that these objections should be disregarded.’54 These logistical factors underlined the UK’s need for the superior, longer-range American aircraft.

Anglo-American joint staff planning From March to August 1956, American and British staff officers met in Washington to coordinate general concepts of operations and plans under the Tripartite Declaration of May 1950 for an Allied intervention in the event of a war between Egypt and Israel. The initiative for holding the joint staff talks came from the UK. It was evident to British planners that for both military and political reasons, they would be unable to intervene unilaterally in any new Middle Eastern conflict. The UK would need the military might and cooperation of the United States. To that end, on 18 November 1955, the British Cabinet’s Defence Committee decided to approach the Americans as soon as possible.55 On 31 January 1956, during their visit to Washington, Prime Minister Eden and Foreign Minister Selwyn Lloyd secured President Eisenhower’s agreement to enter joint military talks, whose purpose would be to concert ‘military moves as a deterrent’, and to examine ‘the scope of the military problem if Arab–Israeli hostilities broke out’.56 A perfunctory gesture was made to the French, the third signatory to the Tripartite Declaration. On 8 February 1956, Robert Murphy, Under-Secretary of State for Political Affairs at the State Department, met with the British and French ambassadors in Washington to discuss their joint responsibilities in the Middle East under the Tripartite Declaration. The French displayed great reluctance to take any concerted action, preferring to hand over the whole problem to the United Nations. In any case, the US was quite aware that the French had no naval strength whatever to contribute. The UK also opposed involving the French, due to doubts about their security.57 146


Following the Eden/Lloyd talks in Washington in January 1956, the British had asked Admiral Cassady, the American CNO, about the capabilities of the US 6th (Mediterranean) Fleet. Admiral Radford, chairman of the JCS, refused to supply the information. But the Americans did agree that the 6th Fleet would increase its calls to ports in the Eastern Mediterranean. Radford issued the necessary orders in February 1956.58 The State Department expressed its reservations about the bilateral military planning requested by the British, due to its anxieties about the volatility of the situation in the Middle East. However, further to Radford’s personal intervention, Dulles acquiesced in ‘some measures of combined planning with the British’.59 Dulles became concerned that new developments in March would lead to a further decline in the British position in the region. First, at the beginning of the month, there was King Hussein’s dismissal of General Glubb. This has been described as ‘the deepest cut in the history of the Hashemite state between 1948 and 1967’. It constituted a resounding insult to the British and portended the final denouement of their long-standing hegemony in Jordan. Seeing Nasser’s hand behind Hussein’s move, the British were profoundly rattled. Eden himself was furious with the Egyptian leader. Initially, he ordered Shuckburgh to ‘consider the reoccupation of the Canal Zone by British troops’. Sir Ivone Kirkpatrick, the Foreign Office’s Irish-born Permanent Under-Secretary (‘small, brisk, dapper, decisive and self-confident’60), proposed they they abrogate the Anglo-Jordanian treaty and cancel the subsidy.61 But wiser, more cautious counsels prevailed. It now seems clear that Nasser in fact had nothing directly to do with Glubb’s dismissal, although clearly he was not dismayed by it. Indeed, the Egyptian leader had complained to Henry Byroade, the American ambassador in Cairo, that he found it impossible to coordinate military plans against Israel with the Britishofficered Arab Legion.62 The dismissal of Glubb, together with the main body of British officers who commanded the Arab Legion, cast doubts on any future role that Jordan might fulfil in Western defence plans for the Middle East. Indeed, one of Hussein’s first independent steps was to move the Legion to the Israeli border.63 Second, an American initiative to mediate a compromise peace between Egypt and Israel was, by early March 1956, clearly faltering. From December 1955 to March 1956, Robert Anderson, Eisenhower’s personal emissary, had conducted three rounds of shuttle diplomacy between Egypt and Israel, in a vain attempt to persuade the Egyptians and the Israelis to agree to the Alpha project, the secret Anglo-American peace plan (see chapter 4). By the second week of March, Anderson’s mission had clearly failed.64 The Allies became convinced that Nasser was determined to take his own independent path. The State Department warned of his determination to build up a ‘ “non-identified” bloc of nations under Egyptian domination’, in defiance of the West. Nasser succeeded in projecting an image of ‘imperialism’s challenger in the Middle East and champion of national independence movements’. In Bandung, a conference of ‘non-aligned’, Third World nations convened in mid-April 1955, at which the Egyptian ruler took a leading part.65 147


The JIC did not believe that the Egyptian Army would be ready for war until the end of 1956, and that until that date, if Egypt did initiate a war with Israel, it would be ‘soundly whipped’. But the JIC feared that Nasser would not necessarily abide by military logic, but might launch a war at any time, due to ‘political and emotional’ motives, as ‘Egyptian military preparedness is now so far advanced that little, if any, warning would be necessary before they engaged in hostilities . . . and they have their forces now in position.’66 Therefore, in March 1956, the Allies embarked upon two new initiatives against Nasser. First, at Eden’s initiative, the Americans joined the British in a new strategy, code named ‘Omega’, designed to weaken Nasser’s position at home and to isolate him inside the Arab world. The West would court those Arab states close to Nasser, and attempt to isolate Egypt by the transmission of ‘black propaganda radio broadcasts’, and the financing of Iraqi anti-Egyptian propaganda. They would impose a ‘gradual squeeze on the Egyptian economy’ in order to stir up popular resentment against Nasser’s regime. The American administration decided to delay export licences for arms to Egypt, hold up funding for the Aswan Dam, delay action on Egyptian requests for grain and oil, and give increased support to the Baghdad Pact, short of actually adhering to it.67 The second step was the convening of the first round of Anglo-American military staff talks (lasting one week), which opened in Washington on 20 March 1956. The talks began on the understanding, insisted upon by the JCS, that they would not prejudice unilateral US planning, already well under way.68 These talks produced an analysis of the military problems facing the Allies in the Middle East. It was agreed that each side would immediately prepare ‘concepts of operations’ to cover each of the possible contingencies: those discussed included naval and air demonstrations, economic measures, a naval blockade and ‘the employment of ground task forces against either the Arab States or Israel or both’. Each side would also prepare estimates of force requirements and availabilities. The next step would be to determine jointly upon a command structure, and to issue detailed directives to the commanders in the field, who would then each prepare their plans in detail.69 As noted already, at the beginning of April, Air Chief Marshal Dickson flew to Washington, to discuss with the American Administration their joint staff planning.70 Dickson’s recent appointment (October 1955) as chairman of the COS reflected the importance accorded to air strategy by the British government (in August 1957, the Americans followed the British precedent when Eisenhower appointed General Nathan F. Twining, commander of USAF from 1955 to 1957, to be chairman of the JCS). Dickson’s mission was to impress upon the Americans the importance of committing American military forces to the Middle East. Dickson was accorded all due honours, being received on separate occasions by both Eisenhower and Dulles. Admiral Radford, chairman of the JCS, accompanied him on most of his official calls in Washington. However, the talks were conducted between Allies of unequal status, with the British very clearly the junior partner. The British had been badly shaken by 148


Glubb’s dismissal, as Dickson admitted to Dulles. He confessed that when he had left London, Whitehall ‘had been in a bit of a flap about the situation in the Middle East and felt the current was running against them’. The Americans were hardly reassured when Dickson added that the atmosphere in London had since calmed down somewhat.71 His admission merely reconfirmed for the Americans their existing misgivings about the decline of British power in the Middle East. The Americans’ paternalism did not go unnoticed by the British side. Patrick Dean, the influential Assistant Under-Secretary of State at the Foreign Office and long-serving chairman of the Joint Intelligence Committee (JIC), accompanied Dickson to Washington. He reported back to London: They [the Americans] consider that London is on the retreat and that their judgement is rather rattled. The Americans do not want to make a mistake and think that they must think for both of us. They are afraid that our judgement is rather warped by our being rattled.72 Both the British and American military chiefs, Dickson and Radford, were confounded by the tangle of political difficulties involved when discussing concepts of military operations to meet the case of an aggression by either Israel or Egypt. Both complained to their political superiors that they were not receiving sufficient political guidance. If such ‘guidance’ was lacking, this was due in all probability to the fact that Dulles and his colleagues were no less confused than the military. Not only were they dealing with the two separate case options of either Egypt or Israel attacking the other, but also with the prospect that hostilities might break out in such a manner as to make it impossible to identify the aggressor. Dulles himself did not really believe in a military solution to the problem, if only because the President was unable to take military action without prior Congressional approval, the securing of which was a very sensitive issue and dubious prospect.73 Dickson’s meeting with the President on 6 April was attended also by both the Dulles brothers, the JCS and the Secretary of Defence, Charles E. Wilson. Admiral Radford volunteered that the Americans would be prepared, if necessary, to deploy three divisions from Germany to the Middle East. But he warned that the problems in the Middle East could not be dealt with by military measures alone. The American side cautioned Dickson that the case of an Israeli attack on Egypt would be the most difficult for them to deal with, and it would be extremely hard to produce an effective plan to meet this contingency. The general question of future Allied strategy in the Middle East was also discussed, in view of the recent demise of the Anderson mission. Eisenhower stated that they must now build up Iraq and strengthen the Baghdad Pact.74 The Allies’ fears that Nasser was intent on initiating a new war appeared about to materialize when, at the beginning of April, violence again flared along the Gaza Strip armistice line. An artillery duel between Egyptian and Israeli units from 4 to 6 April soon spread to civilian targets. Gaza City itself was hit by Israeli shells. In retaliation, between 7 and 11 April, Nasser launched several retaliatory raids into 149


Israel, estimated by Israeli Intelligence to have involved from between 100 to 200 fedayeen. The worst incident occurred on 7 April, when one of the fedayeen squads attacked a synagogue in Israel, killing five children and wounding about twenty more. The world awaited the Israeli reaction with bated breath. The Israeli Cabinet decided against retaliation, but authorized David Ben-Gurion, in his capacity as Defence Minister, to take military action when he saw fit. The latter decided against any military steps, his first priority being first to take delivery of and absorb the huge quantities of French arms that were beginning to flow into Israel (the first French Mystère aircraft had arrived on the eve of the fedayeen raids).75 On 4 April 1956, in reaction to the violent flare up in the Gaza Strip, the UN Security Council decided to send its Secretary General, Dag Hamarskj˝old, on a mission to the Middle East, in order to mediate between Egypt and Israel on the basis of the various armistice and ceasefire agreements that both had signed.76 On 9 April, Eisenhower issued a public statement from Augusta, Georgia, to the effect that before leaving Washington he had met with Secretary Dulles in the White House to discuss the repeated acts of hostility in the Middle East. He expressed the administration’s support for the UN Secretary General’s mission to the area, and added that ‘the United States would observe its commitments to oppose aggression and would support and assist any nation subjected to aggression’.77 At the next round of Anglo-American military staff meetings, held from 25 April to 3 May 1956, emphasis was laid upon deterrence, by impressing any potential aggressor with the Allies’ ‘unmistakable will and capacity . . . to use overwhelming force’. This would be done by reinforcing naval forces in the Eastern Mediterranean, by conducting regular air patrols by fighter-bombers and bombers; naval patrols by aircraft carriers in the region; and ‘carrying out wellpublicized amphibious exercises against Israel’ (the ‘display of landing craft in the Eastern Mediterranean’, in COS terminology).78 The key to Allied military intervention, either for deterring the belligerents or, failing that, for defeating their military forces, lay in air power. Once hostilities began, an Allied air offensive would be launched against the air forces of both sides, both in the air and on the ground, until they had been neutralized. With Egypt now regarded by Britain as the more likely aggressor, the primary targets were the (ex-British) air bases in the Canal Zone, together with any other operational bases in the Delta region. The neutralization of the Egyptian air force would remove much of the impetus from the Egyptian offensive against Israel.79 However, the acquisition of modern jet fighters, first by Egypt in late 1955, and by Israel from the Spring of 1956, had altered the strategic balance in the Middle East – not only between Israel and Egypt, but also between those two countries and the UK itself. It became doubtful if the UK, while ostensibly still a Great Power, would in fact be able to intervene effectively in the event of a new war in the Middle East. Israel was about to take delivery of 72 French Mystère IVA jet fighters.80 Initially, the British had opposed the sale of the Mystères to Israel, fearing that if they had to support Jordan against an Israeli attack, their own Venoms would be out-manoeuvered. However, the British commitment to Jordan 150


was transformed radically by the events of March 1956. The MEAF’s Venoms were no match either for Israel’s Mystères or for Egypt’s MIG15s – especially if, as feared, Soviet technicians and crews were servicing and operating the MIGs. This caused British planners to fear even for the safety of their aircraft carriers, since the Venoms could not guarantee full protection against the MIG15s.81 Thus, in the Middle East (as indeed, across the globe), the British became dependent upon American air power. Plans for any Allied air offensive in this theatre would depend upon the American F86Hs (Sabre) jets – high-performance, longer-range jet fighters. Given that the Americans ruled out using airbases in neighbouring Arab countries for operations against Egypt, British-occupied Cyprus was the closest available base to the expected theatre of operations. In June 1956, the British agreed to evacuate some of their own aircraft from Cyprus in order to provide accommodation for the two squadrons (about 24 aircraft) of the superior American aircraft. The British decision was both political, to ensure the involvement of the Americans in any military intervention in the Middle East, and an operational necessity. The UK’s inferior Venom fighters and Meteor reconnaissance jets, as well as some of its Canberra bombers, would be moved either to Malta or to El Adem. The F86s would be able to operate against either Egypt or Israel, and in the defence of the Cyprus base itself.82 In the case of an Israeli aggression, American forces would intervene in the Egyptian–Israeli war zone, and British troops would operate in Jordan (which until 1967 included Palestine’s West Bank). In the case of an Egyptian aggression, the American planners agreed initially that a marine combat team, suitably equipped for amphibious landings, would take part with British ground forces in a land offensive against the Suez Canal area.83 It was relatively easy to draw up plans for various possible contingencies, but by the spring of 1956, Allied planning, both unilateral and joint, had become confused, and encumbered by the virtual impossibility of predicting which side would start a war first, Egypt or Israel. The Americans drafted specific plans, each with its own secret code name, for various contingencies of military intervention being required. In May 1956, Operation Stockpile provided for the assembly of weapons and military equipment in the region.84 In late June, plan Stockpile was replaced by ‘Whiplash’. It listed the immediate provision of military aid to the victim of any aggression in the Middle East. The USS Oglethorpe was sent to the Mediterranean, loaded with arms and ammunition for Egypt, in the event of an Israeli attack.85 By Spring 1956, the Allies were becoming increasingly apprehensive about Israel’s vulnerability to an Egyptian attack. Even the British had become concerned that Israel would suffer heavy losses in that event. On 4 April, Air Chief Marshal Dickson told Dulles that ‘the Israeli army was out-gunned by the Egyptian army’ – even if he believed that for the next six months Israel would still manage to defeat Egypt. By August 1956, the JCS estimated that the balance of power would swing in Egypt’s favour within three months.86 In the meantime, in May 1956, the Americans became so apprehensive about Israel’s inferiority in the air that they decided that in the event of an Egyptian 151


aggression, they would transfer 24 of their F86 fighters to Israel. They knew that the French were supplying Israel with Mystères, but believed that the number of aircraft involved was much lower than it actually was. Eisenhower discovered from CIA director Dulles only in mid-October that the French had supplied Israel with 60, not 24 Mystères. The final number delivered was actually 74. The Americans’ plan to send the F86s to Israel (always contingent upon an Egyptian aggression) was not revoked until August 1956, when joint Anglo-American planning was called off.87 In order to avoid ‘political’ complications (that is, the animosity of the Arabs, for granting significant Western aid to Israel), it was agreed that the aircraft would be taken from American air force units in Europe and flown to British-controlled Cyprus, where they would be handed over to Israeli pilots. The COS initially baulked at using the British base on Cyprus, as this might be construed by the Arabs as giving direct aid to Israel. They also asked the quite logical question – of who exactly was going to fly the American aircraft to Israel (by October 1956, the Israelis had trained enough pilots to fly only one-third of the new Mystères). The British also raised ‘practical difficulties’ – that the transfer of the F86s would take up valuable ground space on Cyprus, and would therefore come ‘at the expense of more important offensive air operations’.88 The British tried to synchronize the transfer of the F86s for Israel together with the transfer of the other two F86 squadrons which, as seen already, were to form part of an Allied air force on Cyprus. But Washington insisted that the two operations remain separate. The American staff officers reassured their counterparts that the entire handover operation would be self-contained, and would take no more than one to two days, and ‘no training or familiarization of Israeli Pilots’ on Cyprus would be required. The UK’s overriding consideration was their knowledge that any Allied intervention in any Middle East conflict would have to depend upon the American-piloted F86s operating from Cyprus. Thus in midJuly, the British acquiesced in the American plan to carry out the transfer of the warplanes to Israel at British bases on Cyprus.89 However, the Anglo-American staff talks stalled ultimately on the question of command. The British wanted a combined high command, whereas the Americans insisted on preserving fully separate national commands, at all levels. Due to the British insistence on this point, the Americans withdrew their commitment to send their Marine Combat team for the joint operation planned against Port Said. But the British were unwilling to ‘go it alone’ against the Suez Canal Zone installations. In view of what was to occur at Suez just five months later, there is no little irony in the fact that in May 1956, British planners insisted that for political reasons, any operation against Egypt must ‘appear to be a combined US/UK operation from the start’.90 By mid-1956, British Intelligence had become quite sanguine about the risk of an Israeli aggression against Egypt in the short term. On 17 July 1956, nine days before Colonel Nasser’s nationalization speech, a JIC assessment concurred with American assessments that it was unlikely that either side would deliberately initiate a war before the end of the year. The Egyptian Air Force and Navy would 152


not have absorbed its new Soviet weaponry until then, and Israel remained confident that she could defeat Egypt alone – although not necessarily a combination of the Arab States.91 However, prophetically as it turned out, the JIC report warned of the continuing danger that a ‘major clash’ might be precipitated by ‘inflammatory statements, frontier incidents and commando raids.’ But the JIC concluded that the key to the future policy of the Arab States lay with Nasser, who did ‘not appear to want a war’.92 The Allied staff talks had assumed an inertia of their own. They continued, notwithstanding Colonel Nasser’s nationalization of the Suez Canal on 26 July 1956, and the ensuing Suez crisis. Some of the more senior British officers now found themselves on the one hand, carrying out Eden’s orders to prepare a unilateral British operation to seize the Suez Canal and to topple the Egyptian leader; and on the other hand, at the same time, they continued planning with American staff officers to intervene jointly in order to halt a war between Egypt and Israel! Yet the issue of command proved to be an insurmountable stumbling block. The COS endeavoured to muster JCS approval for a joint command of the Allied forces to be involved, even under an American officer. But on 8 August, the Americans rejected this proposal, arguing for ‘close coordination between national commanders’.93 The American documents indicate that at this point the joint staff talks were adjourned and that Operation Whiplash was cancelled.94 However, the British documents indicate that the talks were never in fact broken off formally. According to the British record, the JCS were willing to conduct ‘further detailed strategic planning’ in Washington, once the command issue was resolved. The British Chiefs did not regard the issue of a joint command as vital enough to be worth abandoning the joint staff talks. On 19 October 1956, just five days before the Sèvres secret agreement (about which the British Chiefs apparently knew nothing), the British Planners suggested yet a further compromise in order to facilitate the continuation of the joint military planning in Washington. Given that the Americans had withdrawn their initial agreement to commit a force of US marines to join the British land force whose mission it would be to keep open the Suez Canal, the issue of a joint land command had in any case become academic. Likewise, the British Chiefs saw no point in pressing the Americans further for a joint command of air operations. The only point on which they still felt strongly was the need for a single command of the navy carrier forces to be involved – this would be necessary in order to ensure their economical use and to avoid possible confusion. The Planners recommended, and the Chiefs concurred, that if the American side did not accept British reservations on the command of the Carrier Task Forces, they should accept the American position, ‘in the interests of an immediate start to planning’. They concluded: We see no reason . . . why a difference of view on the carrier command structure should prevent more detailed planning based on a common intelligence appreciation. This planning should include selection of targets, allotment of forces and definition of areas of operation.95 153


But the pious hopes of the COS were soon overtaken by the machinations of their political overlords. The Sèvres Agreement for a joint Anglo-French-Israel offensive against Egypt rendered the Anglo-American staff talks irrelevant, and consigned the resultant plans to the dust of their respective archives. The American military also appeared to be detached from events in the field. Their first set of unilateral plans was not completed until 12 days after Israel had opened its offensive against Egypt in the Sinai desert. Their planning for a unilateral intervention in the event of an Arab–Israeli conflict continued well after the conclusion of the Suez War.96 The Suez Crisis caused yet another swing in the pendulum of the most likely scenario for a Middle East war. British Intelligence became even more dubious that Nasser would now initiate a war, due to his fear of ‘giving the West cause to intervene against her’.97 Israel again became the principal suspect for beginning an aggression in the Middle East. The JCS expressed their fears that Israel would take advantage of the crisis between the Allies and Egypt in order to attack first. This was because the ‘principal restraining powers’ were themselves now preoccupied with reopening the canal.98 Two days after Nasser’s nationalisation of the canal, the Israeli Chief of Staff, Moshe Dayan, did in fact try to persuade Ben-Gurion to permit Israeli forces to launch a large-scale offensive against Egypt. But the Israeli Prime Minister vetoed his request, on the same grounds as before – that they needed more time to absorb the new French weapons.99 At the end of September, with the COS well advanced in their planning for a war against Egypt without the Americans, the JIC again warned about the potential embarrassment to the Allies of any Israeli involvement in the pending hostilities against Egypt, and their supreme interest in keeping the Arab–Israeli dispute out of the Suez Crisis. The JIC did not believe that Israel was likely to try to force her assistance on the Western Powers against their will, or . . . deliberately complicate their action against Egypt so long as it is apparent that the Powers are firm in opposing Colonel Nasser over the Suez Canal issue.100 However, if Nasser looked like emerging from the crisis unscathed, ‘with his prestige enhanced’, Israel might then take pre-emptive action, before it was too late, on the assumption that she would be the next object of Nasser’s attentions. The JIC also warned against the possibility that Israel might exploit an Egyptian clash with the Western Powers to commit an aggression against Jordan – in an attempt to ‘push their frontier to the River Jordan’, while neither Egypt nor the Western Powers would be able to intervene effectively to save Jordan.101 The Anglo-French-Israeli conspiracy to attack Egypt was one particular contingency that neither the American or British planners had foreseen in advance of October 1956. The long months of their intensive planning were rendered totally irrelevant by the war.102 Western links with the Baghdad Pact were injured irrevocably, and the Pact itself compromised irretrievably. All this goes far to explain the Americans’, and Eisenhower’s, personal wrath, which was vented not merely against the British government in general, but against Eden personally. 154

10 THE CONSEQUENCES OF SUEZ

In default of genius nations have to make war as best they can, and since that quality is much rarer than the largest and purest diamonds, most wars are mainly tales of muddle. (Winston S. Churchill)1

The Suez War had numerous ramifications for the Middle East, some of which took years to be played out. The war itself may be counted as a disastrous failure for the UK. It achieved neither its military nor its political goals. Instead of bringing about the fall of Colonel Nasser, Eden himself was forced to resign. Instead of restoring Western control of the Suez Canal, the war caused the very thing it was supposed to have ensured against – the closure of the canal. The consequent loss of access to Middle Eastern oil, and of American support, plunged the UK into a serious economic crisis. The British government realized finally that the UK’s imperial hegemony in the Middle East was finished. On 12 December 1956, Harold MacMillan, still serving as Chancellor of the Exchequer, confessed to Secretary Dulles: ‘The British action was the last gasp of a declining Power.’2 The manoeuvering and subterfuge that marked Eden’s handling of the crisis, and the political restraints that he imposed upon the execution of military operations, caused serious friction and misunderstandings between the political and military echelons of his administration. His intrusions had detrimental effects upon the conduct of the war itself. This led to a serious demoralization within the army’s senior command. The depth of their disillusion may be gauged from a confidential memorandum written shortly after the war, in January 1957, by the retired Air Chief Marshal of the RAF, Sir John Slessor, Chief of the Air Staff from 1950 to 1952. Slessor claimed that every senior officer of his rank that he had spoken with about the war ‘who has any real experience of Defence Policy and Foreign affairs’ shared his own view that ‘the action of our Government was an appalling blunder, a climax of misjudgment amounting to crass imbecility’.3 It will be the purpose of this chapter to deal primarily with the military and strategic consequences of the military operation. 155

T H E C O N S E QU E N C E S O F S U E Z

General Sir Charles F. Keightley, Commander-in-Chief of British forces in the Middle East, who commanded the Allied Expedition Force, had to be more circumspect in his own, official report on the Suez operation. In contrast to Slessor, Keightley was still a serving officer. But this did not inhibit him from criticizing the political meddling that had characterized the conduct of the war. His report elaborated upon the operational problems it had caused, certain changes of orders required for political reasons but clearly unsound militarily, inevitably cause a grave lack of confidence in Commanders at each level all the way down to soldier, sailor or airman who is eventually given the militarily inexplicable order usually at very short notice. This aspect is often forgotten when such directions are given at a high level.4 The same point was made, albeit more graphically, in a history of the British Chiefs of Staff written by two British generals some 35 years later: As the crisis developed, all the Chiefs became concerned, if not actually embittered by the confused political and foreign policy aims against which the military operations had to be planned, mounted and conducted. They became unhappier still when the secret Franco–Israeli collusion was thrust upon them to provide an internationally implausible casus belli.5 Many of the senior officers who commanded the campaign in Egypt felt that they had been deprived of information that bore directly upon their operational plans. They resented the fact that they had been ordered to invade Egypt on the specious battle order that they were fighting in order to separate the Egyptians from the Israelis – a claim that many either knew or suspected at the time was a lie.6 The Suez War also had grave ramifications, both military and political, for the future of the Baghdad Pact. It laid bare all the weaknesses of the UK’s military posture in the Mediterranean and Middle East and, perhaps above all, exposed its ‘lack of an operational strategic reserve, together with the necessary sea and air transport to lift it’.7 But most critical of all, the war had a potentially disastrous effect upon AngloAmerican relations. Eden’s initiation of the war behind the back of his American ally plunged the ‘special relationship’ to a post-war nadir. The American President refused even to grant the British Prime Minister a hearing. An idea of Eisenhower’s furious mood is provided by Air Chief Marshal Sir John Slessor. The retired ex-commander of the RAF, a private businessman in 1956, happened to be in New York when the Suez war broke out. Being an old acquaintance of Eisenhower’s, Slessor was called in for a private meeting with the President on 1 November. Eisenhower told Slessor that he had received no warning about impending hostilities, and had received the first news over the ticker tape. On the eve of the Presidential election campaign, Eisenhower was naturally preoccupied 156


with the political ramifications of the Israeli action, and told Slessor that the previous day, 30 November, had been the worst day of his life: He had taken his political future in his hands by condemning Israel as an aggressor, but, he added, ‘if anyone thinks I’m going to play politics with this situation, they’ve got another think coming.’ He then blurted out ‘if anyone imagines that I want another four years of this God-dam job they must be crazy.’8 Nonetheless, Anglo-American strategic cooperation, both globally and in the Middle East, was hardly affected, not even in the short term – and not only because Eden soon departed the political scene. The American ambassador to London at the time recorded later in his memoirs that he was astounded by ‘the vitriolic nature of Eisenhower’s reaction’, and thought it was ‘unstatesmanlike . . . a dreadful thing . . . because of pique or petulance’.9 Ironically, the very brevity of the crisis might possibly have been due to the fact that Eisenhower pinned the blame on Eden personally. Allied Strategic cooperation was resumed immediately, because the two countries continued to share common global military and strategic interests, and very concrete economic interests in the Middle East. Both countries continued to regard the Baghdad Pact as the best, indeed the only instrument with which to safeguard their interests in the region. Indeed, the war triggered an intensive, even if futile, lobby by the JCS to have the US join the Pact officially.

Planning and politics The parameters of British planning to reoccupy the Suez Canal were of course entirely different from those that for the previous six months had guided AngloAmerican planning to stop either Egypt or Israel from attacking the other. Indeed, as noted in the previous chapter, British planners had warned repeatedly against any unilateral (that is, without the Americans) British operation to reoccupy the Canal Zone. But following Nasser’s nationalization of the canal, Eden became obsessed with bringing down the new ‘Mussolini on the Nile’, who had had the impudence and the gall to nationalize the canal so soon after the last British soldier had left Egyptian soil. Slessor referred later to the nationalization, with not a little colonialist overtone, as ‘an act of such infamous bad faith – coming within six weeks of our fulfilling our promise to terminate our eighty year old occupation of Egypt – so typical of a Dictator, and an Asiatic one at that.10 Eden had in fact made up his mind to unseat Nasser the previous March, when King Hussein dismissed Glubb Pasha. At the time, Eden believed that Nasser had engineered the move. In reaction, he told Shuckburgh that they should consider re-occupying Suez. Ten days later he admonished: ‘Nasser must be got rid of. It is either him or us. Don’t forget that.’11 157


There is some irony in the fact that some of the Military later condemned Eden for having done the right thing at Suez, but at the wrong time. They believed that when Glubb was dismissed, Eden should have halted the evacuation of Egypt, and returned the garrison there back to full strength. There may well be some truth in the assertion made by one of Eden’s biographers that his antipathy to Nasser was rooted in his ‘resentment against upstart have-not imperialisms poaching on traditionally British or “white-race” preserves and challenging Britain’s historic control of the world’s sea-lanes’.12 The result was a ‘schizophrenic policy’ – with Eden going through the motions of cooperating with American-led diplomatic initiatives to restore the running of the canal to some international body, while at the same time pressing ahead with unilateral military planning. When Eden heard of Nasser’s nationalization of the Suez Canal on 26 July, he called in the COS that same night, and ordered them to prepare a plan to invade Egypt immediately. The COS threatened to resign en bloc if the Prime Minister insisted. They insisted that the operation needed careful planning and would need to be backed by ‘overwhelming force from the outset’. The COS wanted a taskforce of no less than 80,000. The parachutists and commandos that would be needed were currently fighting the EOKA guerilla movement in Cyprus, and would need a short period for rest and retraining.13 The first operational plan to invade Egypt was presented by the COS to the Cabinet’s Egypt Committee on 2 August 1956. It provided for the capture of Port Said, at the northern end of the Suez Canal. This plan would have achieved the UK’s ostensible objective – the restoration of international control over the canal.14 But the hawkish Harold MacMillan pushed for a plan that would ‘seek out and destroy Nasser’s armies and overthrow his government’. He told the Cabinet’s Egypt Committee that ‘an operation that simply occupied the Canal Zone was insufficient’, and warned that the COS plan was based upon an operation which, if successful, will place two Divisions in the Canal Zone. But when we are there, assuming all goes well . . . what shall we do next? After all, we were in the Canal Zone with 80,000 men and yet we were unable to prevent the rise of a government hostile to us leading to a permanent source of trouble. In other words, our reason for evacuating the Canal Zone was because we could not enforce our will merely by sitting on the canal. The only result of this operation as far as I can see will be to put us back to where we were with rather smaller forces.15 These were words of wisdom indeed. But MacMillan’s, and indeed Eden’s scenario – to overthrow Nasser and install a compliant Egyptian regime under the protection of British bayonets – was no less anachronistic. Nonetheless, the COS embraced MacMillan’s concept and drew up a revised plan, codenamed ‘Musketeer’. This provided for a direct assault on Alexandria, to be preceded by an intensive air and naval bombardment, and thence an advance 158


by road to Cairo. The Egypt Committee endorsed Musketeer on 10 August. The critics’ warnings – about the difficulties of an attack on the Egyptian capital, and of sustaining before world public opinion the claim that their only goal was to re-establish international control of the canal – were all brushed aside.16 The commander of British land forces, General Sir Hugh Stockwell, predicted confidently that the invading British force would menace the Egyptians’ capital, and that the Egyptian army ‘would be forced either to capitulate or to stand and fight us to the north-west of Cairo where their army would be annihilated’.17 Two parallel British foreign policies emerged – one run by the Foreign Office and one, run behind its back, by Eden and the Intelligence Service, MI6. Most Foreign Office officials and the COS were kept in the dark about the collusion with Israel, except for those few who actually negotiated the Anglo-French-Israeli deal at Sèvres, just outside Paris. This led to the following anomalous situation. At a meeting of the Chiefs of Staff on 25 October, the day after the conclusion of the deal at Sèvres, the Foreign Office representative, Counsellor J.D. Murray, stated: ‘It might be over-optimistic to assume . . . that during Operation MUSKETEER the Israelis would remain inactive when circumstances were so favourable to them.’18 Eden charged MI6 agents to locate dissidents in Egypt who would be willing to form an alternative regime under British aegis, once Nasser had been toppled. But even the top political echelons at MI6 were cut out by Eden from the direction of policy in Egypt.19 At the same time, Eden kept up the pressure on his military to produce plans for an early invasion. Eden’s Foreign Secretary, Selwyn Lloyd, quite evidently realized that his chief was only paying lip-service to the American-led diplomatic track. He resorted to the most irregular step of appealing to Secretary Dulles, who visited London in late August. He confided to him that British plans for military action were such that ‘in effect there would be a button pushed early in September and after that everything would happen automatically and be irrevocable’.20 Lloyd was concerned that the military plans under preparation took no account of the UK’s pledges to the UN, nor did they ‘set the stage’, so that the military action would not appear to be an unjustified ‘open aggression’. According to Dulles’s report, Lloyd showed ‘obvious signs of emotional strain’, and appealed to him to intervene, as ‘the only person who could alter these plans’.21 From the purely military point of view Musketeer was a solid, orthodox plan. If successful, it might just have brought Nasser down. However, it also left him enough time to block the canal and to sabotage its installations. But at the end of August, Eden changed tack again, realizing belatedly that the attack on Cairo would be unacceptable to world opinion.22 Musketeer itself was revised and brought back to the Egypt Committee by General Keightley on 14 September. The frontal attack on Alexandria, and thence on Cairo, was now abandoned, although the option of occupying Cairo and Alexandria were retained in case it proved necessary to install a ‘friendly’ administration. Instead, an intensive ten-day aerial offensive was to be carried out, initially 159


against the Egyptian air force, and then against Egyptian military and civilian targets. This campaign, supported by psychological warfare, was supposed to have produced an ‘ever increasing disruption of the Egyptian economy, morale and administration and the reduction of the will and power to resist’. Once the air offensive was completed, land, sea and air forces would carry out what was expected to be a virtually unopposed occupation of the Canal Zone. The JPS commented presciently that the government would need considerable resolve in carrying through the aerial bombing in the face of hostile world opinion.23 Senior British officials felt increasing unease with the anomalous position into which Eden’s manipulations were leading them. At the end of September, following the delivery of a Foreign Office reprimand to Israel after it had carried out another reprisal raid, Sir Gerald Fitzmaurice, the department’s legal adviser, minuted: There really seems to be no end to the contradictions we involve ourselves in . . . Apart from the question whether it is really quite appropriate for us to be reading people this sort of lecture at the present time, is it wise for the British official spokesman to be condemning in such rounds terms action of a type which we might very well be led to taking ourselves, and have indeed, as all the world knows, made extensive preparations for taking.24 The COS became concerned now about the prospect of perhaps having to carry out simultaneously both Musketeer, and Cordage (JOI 27) – the long-standing plan to come to Jordan’s aid in the event of an Israeli attack (see chapter 4). Cordage was not in fact cancelled until just a few days before the invasion of Egypt.25 The British were still apprehensive about Israel’s alleged territorial ambitions against Palestine’s West Bank. They feared that Israel would now exploit the current crisis with Egypt in order to conquer this territory. They anticipated that if Musketeer was launched, Jordan would side with Egypt, and attacks against British lives and property in Jordan would ensue. If this happened, British forces would hardly be able to come to the aid of the Jordanian regime, if Israel attacked it. They believed that Israel would probably time its ‘provocation’ against Jordan to come after British forces were already fully committed to Musketeer, and therefore unable to come to Jordan’s aid. These considerations, and the inevitable confusion about who had attacked first, would in all probability guarantee Israel against the UK coming to Jordan’s aid under the provisions of the Anglo-Jordan Treaty.26 Tension between the two countries peaked following a heavy Israeli reprisal raid on the area round the West Bank town of Qalqilya on 10 October, in which 70 Jordanians were killed. Half of the MEAF was placed on a 6-hour alert, and the remainder on a 12-hour alert. The COS issued the somewhat ambiguous directive to Keightley that in the event that Cordage was carried out, he would be able to call on the MEAF forces assigned to Musketeer. Yet at the same time he 160


was told also that he should not embark on any actions against Israel that might jeopardize the operation against Egypt. If Musketeer was launched, he was to avoid any further action against Israel until Egypt had surrendered, or at least until a sufficient number of aircraft became available for deployment against Israel.27 The prospect of having to fight both Egypt and Israel at the same time provoked considerable debate, and no less anxiety among the British senior command. The CIGS, Field Marshal Sir Gerald Templer, warned that it would be impossible to mount Musketeer and Cordage simultaneously. The British Middle East command in Cairo was concerned that the recent acquisition by the IAF of Mystère jet aircraft would leave the MEAF with too narrow a margin of superiority. They proposed the deployment of more Venom DF/GA fighters from Germany to Cyprus, and the earmarking of some of the bombers on standby at Malta for the attack on Egypt, for a possible attack on Israel. However, General Keightley himself was confident that if it came to war with Israel he would be able to subdue their forces within just a few days.28 Earl Louis Mountbatten, the First Sea Lord (1955–59), was an outspoken senior officer who expressed serious reservations about Eden’s drive to war on Egypt. He maintained close relations with his American counterpart, the Chief of the American Naval Staff (CNO), Admiral Arleigh Burke, and was concerned about a possible conflict of interest with the UK’s American ally should hostilities occur on the Egyptian and Jordanian fronts simultaneously. On 10 October, in a memorandum he circulated to the Cabinet, he raised the following nightmare scenario: If during Musketeer Israel attacked Jordan and the United States went to Jordan’s aid against Israel then we and the United States would be fighting on opposite sides. We should be the unwilling allies of Israel and our forces in Jordan would be the hostages to fortune. If the United States had gone to the aid of Jordan and Egypt before Musketeer was launched, it would not then be practicable for us to launch Musketeer.29 Mountbatten, like many other senior members of the British Establishment, was concerned also about the effect of the operation on British relations with the Arab world. He even asked Eden to sign a written statement to the effect that the military would bear no responsibility for the war. When his request was turned down, he asked to be relieved of his position. When this too was refused, he agreed to stay on only on condition that he received written orders to do so.30 These exchanges all took place before the Sèvres deal whereby Eden agreed to join forces with France and Israel against Egypt. An old Middle East hand such as Eden could not have been ignorant of the risks involved for the UK in attacking the largest of the Arab states. In January 1954, following two rounds of talks between high-level British and Israeli military officers, Eden himself, then Foreign Secretary, had vetoed any further military 161


collaboration between the two countries – not because the Israelis had no military or strategic assets to offer, but because he concluded that any military links with Israel would fatally harm the UK’s relations with the Arab world.31 Eden’s most senior officials – from the COS and the Joint Planners to his Foreign Office – all deluged him with warnings about the dire consequences in the Arab world in the event of a British attack on Egypt. Even the mission of rescuing British personnel serving across the Middle East presented a formidable military challenge, seemingly beyond the logistic ability of the forces available. In mid-August 1956, the COS warned that in the event of a military operation against Egypt, the following events were likely to ensue: antiBritish riots in Iraq that might lead to the overthrow of Nuri Said, in which event they would need to mount a rescue operation to evacuate the 1,500 army personnel at the Habbaniya air base; and likewise, anti-British riots in Jordan would endanger the lives of British personnel at the Amman and Mafraq air bases and the ordnance depot at Zerka – since the army would not have the resources or capacity to fly in the two brigades of reinforcements that would be required to secure these bases. It was highly likely that Syria would support Egypt and allow its air force to use Syrian air bases. The COS also predicted, correctly, that their bases in Libya would be unusable, due to anti-British sentiment, leading possibly to riots.32 In the case of Iraq, the COS prediction proved all too accurate, even if the Hashemites fell only two years later, in July 1958. Nuri Said’s fall may be linked directly with the Suez War. The other members of the Baghdad Pact did not in fact condemn the allied invasion, although they did call upon the UK and France to ‘stop hostilities, withdraw their force . . . . And fully observe and respect the sovereignty, integrity and independence of Egypt’.33 Eden could not possibly have been unaware of the dangers of collusion with Israel. Even as late as at the end of September, with British unilateral planning well under way for the attack on Egypt, the planners had warned specifically against ‘the appearance of any collusion with the Israelis’. Whereas they appreciated that an Israeli attack on Egypt would benefit Musketeer (by drawing off units of the Egyptian army), they warned all too accurately about the dire strategic consequences of collusion: Any action by Israel which would appear to show her in the light of an accepted accomplice of the United Kingdom would have grave political repercussions for this country and would have to be prevented or counter-acted by all means at our disposal . . . our apparent association with Israel could possibly lead to the disintegration of the Baghdad Pact, the loss of our position in Jordan and Iraq and to a requirement to reinforce the Gulf.34 All the warnings about the consequences of an Anglo-French attack on Egypt were issued before the visit to Chequers on 14 October of Albert Gazier, 162


the French Minister of Labour and Acting Foreign Minister, and General Maurice Challe, Deputy Chief of Staff of the French Air Force. The two Frenchmen presented to Eden the plan for an operation against Egypt in collusion with Israel. The latter was to provide the pretext for the Anglo-French reoccupation of the canal – ostensibly in order to separate the two belligerents, and to disengage their forces from the canal.35 Anthony Nutting, who resigned his post as Minister of State at the Foreign Office in protest at Eden’s policy, castigated him later in a personal memoir on Suez: Our traditional friendships with the Arab world were to be discarded . . . our whole peace-keeping role in the Middle East was to be changed and we were to take part in a cynical act of aggression . . . And all to gain for ourselves guarantees for the future operation of the Suez Canal which had only a day or so ago been substantially gained in Lloyd’s negotiations . . . in New York.36 Nasser himself had refused to believe that Eden would attack him in collusion with Israel: ‘this was impossible because it would destroy Britain’s position in the Middle East and . . . Eden knew the Middle East better than to make such a mistake’.37 In October 1956, Eden apparently set aside all reason and his own accumulated experience of the region. In the process, he rode roughshod over all dissent from within his own administration. Many of his senior officers at the time became convinced that he had ‘taken leave of his senses’. It has been suggested that his behaviour was due to a combination of ‘personal and public, physical and political’ pressures. Not the least of his problems was his poor medical condition, which was poisoning his body and eating away at his whole system – a damaged bile duct that provoked recurrent bouts of fever and nervous tension.38 One of the most amazing aspects of the operation was how many senior figures within Eden’s government were kept in the dark by him – even his ambassador to the UN, Bob Dixon, learned of the Anglo-French ultimatum from his Soviet opposite number. The British commanders of the operation, much like their Israeli counterparts, were left in the dark about the deal concluded at Sèvres on 24 October. General Stockwell learned about it from his French subordinate on the very eve of the war. On 28 October Keightley was ordered to move forward the first bombing raids on Egyptian airfields to before sunrise on 31 October. He was not informed that this was due to the government’s commitment at Sèvres, given as a quid pro quo for Israel’s agreement to make the paratroop drop on the same day at the Mitla Pass, in the Sinai desert.* In response, Keightley asked his own COS to enlighten him about the extent to which the Israelis would be fighting as his allies.39 * The purpose of the Israeli operation was purely political – to provide the pretext for England and France to issue an ultimatum to Egypt and Israel to withdraw from the Canal.

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The American reaction Eisenhower was incensed with the British, and with Eden in particular, for taking independent military action behind his back, just as diplomatic moves appeared about to be crowned with success. Dulles too reacted harshly, and was influential in persuading Eisenhower to refuse even to grant Eden an audience. Dulles himself was hospitalized for cancer surgery on 3 November, and thus indisposed for much of the war. But at a meeting of the NSC chaired by Eisenhower only two days before, the Secretary had inveighed against the British in apocalyptic terms: Recent events are close to marking the death knell for Great Britain and France . . . We had almost reached the point of deciding today whether we think the future lies with a policy of reasserting by force colonial control over the less-developed nations, or whether we will oppose such a course of action by every appropriate means.40 However, the American administration was hardly taken unawares by the AngloFrench expedition. Indeed, there was considerable debate within the Administration during the course of summer 1956 on whether the US should join the UK and France in a military operation against Egypt. The JCS had favoured the use of force against Egypt from the very outset of the Suez Crisis. A memorandum submitted to them by the Joint Strategic Plans Committee (JSPC) at the end of July 1956 had recommended that they give all possible economic and diplomatic aid to their British ally – but had opposed the participation of American forces in any military action.41 The JCS rejected their advice, and advocated joining their ally in a joint military operation against Egypt, ‘in support of the U.K., France and others as appropriate’. They justified this course on the grounds that Nasser’s nationalization of the canal was ‘militarily detrimental to the United States and its Allies’, and that if his ‘arbitrary action’ was tolerated, ‘and a further precedent for such arbitrary action thereby established’, it would have global repercussions, affecting their continued tenure of military bases and facilities in the general area; the future of the Baghdad Pact Organization; the economic and military strength of European nations and therefore of NATO; the French position in North Africa; the free flow of shipping through the Suez Canal.42 The JCS view, ‘that Nasser must be broken’, was presented to a meeting of the NSC on 31 July by the CNO, Admiral Arleigh C. Burke. But Eisenhower vetoed the use of military force, warning that it would array the entire Third World against the US, since Nasser personified ‘the emotional demands of the people of the area for independence and for “slapping the white man down”’.43 At a further meeting of the NSC, on 9 August, Admiral Radford, chairman of the JCS, again argued for joint military action with the British, and likened 164


Nasser to ‘another Hitler’. But Eisenhower effectively neutralized the JCS by directing that the Departments of State (the senior body) and Defense make a joint study of all the possible contingencies facing them, and of ‘the military as well as diplomatic implications of each’.44 The interdepartmental committee, the Middle East Policy Planning Group (MEPPG), submitted an initial report on 24 August, which argued firmly and presciently against the consequences for the West of any allied military action against Egypt: it would weaken NATO by diverting British forces to a commitment of indeterminate duration; it would antagonize the nations of the world, many of whom would ‘condemn the UK and France as aggressors . . . the resulting crisis might well destroy the UN’; and it would allow the Soviet Union to pose as the champion of peace and the protector of small nations.45 However, as diplomacy failed to produce any breakthrough during the month of August, the American administration became almost resigned to the prospect of an Anglo-French invasion of Egypt, in order to restore Western control of the canal. The State Department derided the current Anglo-French approach to the UN Security Council as a ‘smoke screen’, designed to shield them from charges of neglecting the international body. The possibility that Israel might seize the opportunity to attack ‘Egypt and Egyptian Allies’ was also taken into account.46 On 12 September, the MEPPG presented a further contingency paper to the JCS (number 4), dealing with the possibility of an Anglo-French military operation against Egypt, notwithstanding American objections. The paper recommended that even in this case, the US should extend ‘political and logistical support to the UK and France and . . . pledge US intervention in response to either third-party intervention’. The aid required of the US might become significant if the fighting became drawn-out, and if the canal was ‘blocked for more that six months or the flow of Middle East oil be otherwise greatly reduced’. The paper even considered the contingency that the Anglo-French operation might fail, in which case ‘direct US military participation’ might well be required.47 This last MEPPG paper followed faithfully the recommendations of the JCS. But the NSC never reviewed, much less adopted any of their reports. Eisenhower and Dulles effectively cut out the JCS from the management of the Suez Crisis and War.48 They adopted what they believed was a ‘morally correct and legally rooted position’. Some officials believed that it was a ‘politically short-sighted and generally irresolute stance’.49 But at this point in time, mid-September, no one on the American side (or even on the British) had contemplated the possibility that the UK would conspire in secret with France and Israel to attack Egypt – a move that might destroy not only the UK’s position in the Arab and Moslem worlds, but also, by association, that of the US as well. However, by the last week of October (notwithstanding an Anglo-French Intelligence blackout), the JCS and senior members of the Eisenhower administration knew very well that their ally was about to move against Egypt – if only because ‘practically every senior general, admiral and air marshal in the British armed forces was keeping the US Joint Chiefs informed of every move they were making’.50 165


For example, two days before the Israelis dropped their paratroops in the Sinai desert, Lord Mountbatten told his American opposite number, Admiral Burke, that: Eden and hard-line members of the cabinet had badgered and bothered the General Staff so much, and given and retracted so many orders, that now the moment had come to begin operations they just didn’t have enough of the right ships and enough landing craft for a swift, incisive operation and landing in Egypt.51 Allen Dulles, Director of the CIA, admitted later that when his brother, the Secretary of State, had claimed that the US had heard nothing about the AngloFrench invasion, he had meant that the British and French had not informed him in advance. American U2 aircraft had in fact been taking high-altitude photographs of all airfields in Egypt and Israel for some time, and American Intelligence gathered direct information on the French supply of Mystères to Israel. He concluded: ‘We weren’t caught by surprise – but were surprised that Britain and France had done it in secret!’52 But it was perhaps the timing of the Suez War (during the American presidential election campaign, and coincidental with the Soviet invasion of Hungary) that infuriated the Eisenhower administration more than anything else. The president felt that he had been duped not only by his closest ally, the UK, but by Israel too. He believed that the Israelis had gone to war on the assumption that for domestic political reasons, he would not dare to criticize them in mid-campaign for his reelection. He believed also that the Qalqilya operation on 10 October had been a deliberate Israeli feint, designed to mislead him into believing that they were about to attack Jordan, rather than Egypt. He had concluded that the Israelis were about to attack Jordan with covert British agreement, and that the UK and France would then take advantage of the situation in order to attack Egypt.53 To add insult to injury, the Anglo-French ultimatum to Egypt and Israel to withdraw to ten miles from the canal was so blatantly transparent that the collusion was immediately apparent to all. At the time when the ultimatum was issued, Israeli forces were still deployed at distances of from between 50 and 100 miles from the canal. They could have advanced a further 40 to 90 miles without infringing the terms of the ultimatum. The British and the French had also made the absurd demand that Nasser permit their forces to deploy ‘temporarily’ at key positions along the canal – Port Said, Ismailia and Suez. It was a demand that they did not intend Nasser to comply with.54 Eisenhower felt also that the UK had bungled the military operation In a private note written on 27 November 1956, he hinted that it was not merely the UK’s anachronistic, colonialist violation of the principles guiding the United Nations that had distressed him: It seemed the action of the British Government was not only in violation of the basic principles by which this great combination of nations can be 166


held together, but that even by the doctrine of expediency the invasion could not be judged as soundly conceived and skillfully executed. (my emphasis)55

The military and strategic lessons of Suez It will not be my purpose here to go into the operational minutiae of the Suez War. That has been done already by some of the works cited in this chapter. In the context of this book, I will attempt rather to outline some of the major conclusions drawn from the war, mainly by the British side, and to indicate their ramifications for a continued British military role in the Middle East. The war was not devoid of operational mistakes. Coordination and advanced planning between the English and French air commands was reasonable, although this was not the case between their naval forces. The result was chaos at sea, and ‘at least one direct collision’.56 General Keightley’s report back to the COS, written nearly a full year after the war, referred to several military and operational lacunae uncovered at Suez. These would influence British planning for their future military presence in the Middle East. Keightley’s report was still being discussed, and the lessons being drawn from it more than a year later.57 The Suez operation had revealed a chronic shortage of naval and air bases in the Middle East; because Cyprus had no deep-water port, the main body of the invasion force had had to be shipped from Malta, some 1,000 miles from Egypt; the two air bases used in Cyprus had been under either construction or repair, and both were ‘dangerously vulnerable to even a single bomber’. Libya had proved useless, for political reasons. There had been insufficient ‘airborne forces complete with support weapons and transport’, a lack of ‘assault forces complete with sufficient landing craft’, and no strategic reserve was left in the UK.58 The JPS recommended that a joint services committee examine the extent to which overseas bases might be ‘adequately equipped, pre-stocked and defended to fulfill their function’. They added presciently that political factors might well preclude the use of some of them. They recommended that the UK ‘should retain sufficient high-performance aircraft . . . to obtain air superiority’, and ‘at least one brigade of the first echelon’, to be held on standby in the UK, to ‘take part at short notice in limited war operations’. But the planners concluded cynically: ‘For various reasons, including financial ones, there is little possibility of implementing most of General Keightley’s proposals.’ However, some solace was derived from the government’s decision that henceforth, in the event of ‘a limited war in the Mediterranean or Far East’, the UK would not act without the US and/or the UN.59 The conduct of most modern wars has been marred by conflicts between the military and the politicians. But the Suez War was exceptional in the extent to which the British Prime Minister had resorted to deception – not only towards his perceived enemies, but also towards his most important ally (the US), to important 167


sections of his own administration and to his own people and parliament. One historian has referred aptly to Musketeer as ‘one vast improvisation’.60 Keightley’s report was seeped in the bitter frustration still felt by the military, who believed that the politicians had deprived them of victory. He permitted himself to draw three major ‘political’ conclusions. His first was that whereas political considerations should always take primacy in war, once the fighting began there should be minimal, if any, political intervention: ‘A sound and comprehensive political appreciation must be made beforehand, so that ideally the military operations once launched required the minimum of political intervention until they are successful’.61 He intimated that at Suez the politicians had not thought out all the political consequences in advance, and that without political intervention the war could have been won within 12 days. On the other hand, he claimed that certain (unspecified) political directives – had they been agreed to by the commanders – could have brought about military failure. In this context, the fact that the British and French governments had issued divergent directives to their respective commanders could have had disastrous results.62 Eden’s ‘strict policy of compartmentalization’ had meant that ‘military moves did not always reflect political intent’.63 At times this led to absurd results. On 4 November, Egypt accepted a UN ceasefire resolution, and on the next morning Israel informed the UN that all fighting between her forces and the Egyptians had effectively ceased. But at the very moment that the news from Israel was being flashed to New York: Anglo-French paratroops were being dropped on Port Said, in order to ‘ “separate” the already separated combatants and to “stop” the already stopped war’.64 From the outset, the commanding officers were impeded by political restrictions, often transmitted at the last minute. For instance, in order to make the Anglo-French ultimatum appear genuine, Eden ordered that there be no alert of British forces before 30 October – the day after the Israeli paratroop drop. This left his commanders faced with the nigh impossible task of sailing their invasion task force to Egypt within 8 days, by 8 November, instead of the 20 days planned. Again, the MEAF was supposed to have started bombing Egyptian airfields when the Anglo-French ultimatum expired, at midnight on 30 October. But Eden ordered the Valiant bombers, already airborne, to return to their bases on Malta, in order to permit the evacuation of Americans from Cairo.65 An idea of the consternation caused by Eden’s intervention can be drawn from the following telegraphed response from the Chief of the Air Staff: Have taken all possible steps to turn aircraft round but cannot confirm as aircraft have been in air one hour already. You will realize the implications of cutting out the most vital of all their airfields. Failure to engage this airfield successfully could be vital to our whole operations if the IL28s from Cairo West successfully attack our bases.66

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The aerial attack on Cairo West was approved for 1 November.67 Eden also suspended the aerial bombing of Cairo Radio, without explanation, for fear of inflicting civilian casualties. Likewise, on 1 November, the Egypt Committee cancelled the bombing of other major targets of the psychological campaign – the Egyptian telegraph and telephone systems, railway lines, oil storage tanks, etc.68 On 2 November 1956, during the war itself, a Foreign Office official sent an informal apology to General Keightley for all the delays to the aerial operations that had been imposed upon him: I hope you understand the great political difficulties which have necessitated us here messing up your air plan in the way we have. The lastmoment decision not to bomb Cairo West and decisions to postpone the attack on Cairo Radio and to defer attack on block ships, have each imposed on you a military penalty which I know the Chiefs of Staff deeply regret but could not avoid. I was sorry that on the opening day we had to ask you to keep six Canberras standing by. This we knew was inefficient but it was necessitated by a political requirement. . . . I hope you are all bearing up under the strain. Certainly we here are very impressed with the way you are handling things and adjusting your plans so nicely to conform with current policy.69 One year later, Keightley wrote in his report to the COS: ‘Luckily the subsequent restrictions on bombing did not make our operations fail or cause us to suffer casualties, although the continued threat of bombing might well have caused EGYPT to capitulate before the Cease Fire.’ He advised that if the armed forces were not to be allowed to use all the weapons in their arsenal in such limited operations, then it became imperative ‘that a political appreciation be made beforehand and the Chiefs of Staff and Commanders will know what they can use and make their military plan accordingly’.70 The French and Israeli commands were not subjected to the same political restrictions as the British. Israeli mobilization began on 25 October, and French troops embarked by sea for Egypt on the 27 October. However, compartmentalization did lead to heavy, gratuitous, Egyptian and Israeli casualties inside the Mitla Pass. For the first 48 hours of the war, the Israeli Southern Command was not informed of the political factors that lay behind the paratroop drop in the Sinai desert.71 General Keightley’s second major conclusion, inevitably, was that ‘world opinion is now an absolute principle of war and must be treated as such’.72 His third, and most important conclusion was the supreme strategic need for cooperation and coordination with the Americans: ‘This situation with the United States must at all costs be prevented from arising again. Conversely a united Anglo-American position would have assured a complete success of all our political objectives with the minimum military effort.’73

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The lack of Anglo-French military or intelligence coordination with the US during the early stages of the war led not only to a full-blown political crisis between the Atlantic Allies, but had potentially disastrous operational consequences during the war itself. When the war began, the Americans moved their 6th Fleet to the Eastern Mediterranean, and their aircraft constantly buzzed the Anglo-French carrier group as it sailed from its bases to Egypt. According to British sources, its arrival was delayed by 24 hours. Until 5 November, the COS feared that the 6th Fleet might even attempt to block their access to Port Said. In his report, Keightley claimed that the American tactics had ‘endangered the whole of our relations with that country’. He accredited the British commanders with ‘patience and care of the highest order’ for the fact that they had not shot down an American aircraft, or sunk an American submarine.74 Of course, the British government had been forced to the same conclusion during the war itself. This was the last time that the British would ever permit themselves to act on the international scene without American sanction. The British were forced to withdraw from Suez, due to both economic and strategic exigencies. They were brought to their knees by the Americans’ refusal to bail them out financially before they agreed to evacuate their forces unconditionally from the Canal Zone. The UK was unable to survive without American support for the pound sterling, or American oil supplies in place of those from the Middle East – held up by the closure of the Suez Canal. The UK’s main economic problem during the Suez crisis was financial – a flight from sterling, which necessitated obtaining a loan from the International Monetary Fund, itself contingent upon American assent. The closure of the Suez Canal (not reopened until March 1957), affected the trans-shipment of oil, rather than its supply. The UK solved this problem in the short term by buying American oil instead – at the price of far higher freight rates, and the outlay of vital, scarce dollars. But in the long term, the Suez crisis actually reduced the importance of the canal by acting as a catalyst to the development of the supertanker, which proved to be more economical than the smaller vessels, even when making the longer voyage around the Cape.75 (Ironically, Iraq, Britain’s closest ally in the Middle East, was perhaps the country hurt most in the short term by the Suez War. She was forced to cut her oil production by 75 percent, after the Syrians cut the IPC pipeline that normally carried her oil to the Mediterranean.)76 Lastly, the British were reminded forcefully of the benefits of the American nuclear umbrella. On 5 November the Soviet President, Nikolai Bulganin, published an enigmatic warning: ‘In what situation would Britain find herself if she were attacked by stronger states, possessing all types of modern destructive weapons . . . for instance, rocket weapons?’ The Soviet threat had the immediate effect of prompting a resumption of Anglo-American Intelligence coordination.77 Western Intelligence did not in fact believe that the Soviets would risk a general war by attacking either the UK or France. But of course, the very fact that the Soviets appreciated that an attack on either of the aggressor’s home territory would involve them in a general war with the US, was in itself proof of the value 170


of the American nuclear umbrella. American Intelligence did not believe that the Soviets would employ missiles with nuclear warheads in the Middle East itself. But they did fear that the Soviets might make some small-scale naval or air attacks on British and French forces in the Eastern Mediterranean – if only in order to flex their muscles as champion of Egypt, and to exert pressure at the UN to reach a settlement to their liking.78 Notwithstanding the almost universal, personal vilification of Prime Minister Eden, there was a considerable anti-American backlash inside the UK, in reaction to what was considered to be her humiliation by the Americans. The Foreign Office was shocked by Eisenhower’s public censure of the UK. One official commented patronizingly that ‘when the State Department emerge from the state of shock into which recent events appear to have thrown them, it will be realized that they can no longer continue their past policy’.79 The State Department itself became apprehensive. One official noted: Major sections of the Conservative Party in Parliament, including members of the Government and the public believe that the United States has been deliberately attempting to wipe out the British influence in the Middle East and to increase the power and prestige of Nasser at Britain’s expense.80 The Department was concerned not only about future cooperation with the British in the Middle East, but also about growing British opposition to the stationing of American military forces in the UK, at strategic air bases leased out to the US.81 Eisenhower may have rebuffed all Eden’s entreaties to be received in Washington, but a liaison between the Allies was maintained, at the highest level. Contacts between senior officers of both countries on the coordination of joint nuclear strike plans, and the provision of American nuclear weapons for British air forces in the event of war, begun in August 1956, apparently were not affected by the Suez Crisis.82 In December 1956, Dulles met privately with both Lloyd and MacMillan in Paris, at a meeting of NATO Foreign Ministers. The future of the Baghdad Pact, and of possible American adherence was discussed (see next chapter). But one whole month before the NATO meeting in Paris – with Anglo-French forces still deployed in the Canal Zone, and no solution to the Anglo-American diplomatic crisis yet in sight – each country delegated one of its most senior military officers, to serve as proxies for their respective heads of state. From the American side, General Alfred M. Greunther, the outgoing Supreme Allied Commander, NATO, and a close friend of Eisenhower was deputed by the President;83 on the British side, Air Chief Marshal Dickson represented Eden. Greunther carried instructions to telegraph his report directly back to the President. Dickson too came with instructions from Eden to explain the British position – although he brought with him no special message for the American President.84 The two officers met for over an hour on 10 November 1956, during a session of the Supreme Headquarters, Allied Powers Europe (SHAPE), held in Paris. 171


Dickson was greeted with an ‘even warmer’ welcome than usual, which he took as a demonstration that nothing had altered the Americans’ feelings towards their British ally. The sensitive question of collusion with the Israelis was not alluded to by either party. Dickson explained that the military operations had been ‘extremely successful’, but had been stopped prematurely before allied forces had secured key points on the canal. The Egyptian army was still intact, and Nasser held the canal as hostage. They had destroyed a large part of the Egyptian Air Force, but the losses would soon be made good by the Soviets. But Dickson said little about the Suez War itself, preferring to devote most of his presentation to the wider; Cold War challenge posed by the Soviets in the Middle East. The central thrust of his brief was how and to what extent, over the previous few years, ‘the position of the West had been undermined and penetrated’ by the Soviets in the region – and how Nasser had now become their tool. He also elaborated upon the Soviets’ plan for fomenting trouble between the Arabs and the Israelis. He concluded that everything now depended upon the Americans acting effectively in the UN, in ‘a matter of days rather than weeks’. He issued an apocalyptic, not-so-inaccurate warning: The ground is fertile for the Russians to recover the good will of the Arab world. Our friends in Iraq and elsewhere will topple and the Soviet will gain a firm grasp of the Middle East and the oil with potential bases which would menace the N.A.T.O. position.85 Dickson appealed for an end to the Anglo-American rift and the adoption of a joint policy at the UN. Greunther listened attentively, and asked a few questions on military issues (intelligence and the blocking of the canal). But he refused to be drawn by Dickson’s request for the American view, and with a laugh stated that his brief had been ‘to listen and not to talk’. As they parted, Greunther took Dickson’s arm and reassured him, ‘leave it to me’.86 Dickson sent his report of the meeting to Eden the same day, and was thanked by the Prime Minister who complemented him, ‘You spoke very well.’87 On 5 November, the British government announced in Parliament its intention to withdraw all of its forces from Egypt, unconditionally. The US moved immediately to shore up the UK’s economic position. Within 72 hours of the British announcement, the Americans dispatched oil supplies to Europe, agreed to defer the interest payments due on the 1946 loan, and announced the issue of American-backed loans to the sum of almost $2 billion.88 In his last appearance before the House of Commons, on 20 December 1956, Eden still denied any advance knowledge that Israel was going to attack Egypt. But Harold MacMillan, who was already manoeuvering himself into position to take over the premiership from Eden, had already ingratiated himself to Dulles, at a meeting on 12 December 1956, during a meeting of NATO Ministers in Paris. According to Dulles’s report, MacMillan apologized for the 172


deception the British government had practiced upon the Americans and explained that he personally, was very unhappy with the way in which the matter was handled and the timing, but that Eden had taken this entirely to himself and he, MacMillan, had had no real choice except to back Eden. MacMillan did not disguise the fact that he had always favored strong action, but the point was that he did not like the manner and timing, particularly vis-à-vis the United States.89 As will be seen in the next chapter, the US would shortly become far more involved in the Middle East in general, and inside the Baghdad Pact in particular.

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11 ALLIED STRATEGY IN THE MIDDLE EAST AFTER SUEZ

Suez made us begin to realise what the Arab world now was. It projected us into the mid-twentieth century. (Humphrey Trevelyan, British Ambassador to Egypt)1

The American commitment to the Baghdad Pact The UK’s fall from grace after Suez threatened to leave a vacuum in the Middle East. The Soviet Union was a strong candidate for filling it. The Moslem members of the Baghdad Pact implored the US to prevent this happening, by joining the Pact. Naturally, the UK added its voice to the chorus. The Eisenhower administration appreciated the dangers now inherent in the situation in the Middle East, and attached yet more importance to the Baghdad Pact. However, for all the usual reasons, the State Department still persisted in its veto against formal American adherence. It will come as no surprise that the JCS, who had favoured sending American forces in with the Anglo-French expedition to Egypt, now mounted a new campaign, to secure formal American adherence to the Pact. Their efforts began in mid-November 1956, barely a few days after the general ceasefire in Egypt had taken effect, on 6 November. The JCS had been pressing Defense Secretary Wilson since the previous April. They asserted that the continued existence of the Pact ‘as a regional defense organization against Soviet aggression in the Middle East’ was vital to the security of the Middle East and for the protection of American military interests in the region. They now argued that only the US could now fill the power vacuum left in the region by the UK, and thereby avert the collapse of the Pact. On 14 November 1956, Secretary of Defense Wilson wrote to Dulles and to the President, to recommend that the US join the Pact as a matter of urgency.2 The State Department concurred with the JCS prognosis of the dangers inherent in the present situation in the Middle East, but did not agree that US adherence to the Baghdad Pact would provide the panacea. The Department’s opposition was still largely political: both domestic – fear that Congress would demand reciprocal security guarantees for Israel; and external – fear of adverse reactions from the Soviet Union. The latter might respond by trying to tighten its 174

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hold on Egypt, Syria and even Jordan. The Department also feared adverse reactions from Ibn Saud, whom Dulles, following his disillusion with Nasser, was now considering ‘backing for the Egyptian role’.3 However, the Department did perceive the logic in the JCS argument: The reason they [the JCS] are now so frantically insistent on our early adherence is that they want the Pact to have some military substance. The British, thoroughly discredited by their fiasco in Egypt, can no longer provide this – if in fact they ever did.4 The Department was compelled also to take into account considerable pressure from the ‘field’, applied both by its ambassadors in the region and by the Moslem members of the Pact. The embassy in Baghdad expanded upon the military arguments put forward by the JCS, as seen from the Pact’s headquarters: Military planning in the Pact is in a particularly sorry state . . . owing to the complete lack of any expertise (except on the part of U.S. and U.K. officers) on the one hand an animosity, particularly Pakistani and Turkish, towards British views and attitudes . . . This leaves only the U.S. with the expertise and capabilities for infusing some realism and coordination into Pact military planning.5 The embassy inveighed against the ‘political’ arguments of the State Department. On the issue of the Zionist lobby at home, it reported that ‘all interested persons’ in Baghdad (‘local representatives of Pact member embassies and Iraqis’) favoured the US joining the Pact and believed that it was, only the complex implications of our electoral system and its partisan possibilities which have thus far precluded a favorable decision to adhere . . . [and] only the November elections have stood in the way of a prompt decision by the U.S. to adhere.6 As for the feared adverse repercussions to US accession from other countries, the embassy argued that recent events had in any case demonstrated the futility of courting the Egyptians, and urged that American interests would be served better by the increase in Iraq’s prestige that American adherence to the Pact would produce. As for anticipated Soviet objections, it was pointed out that American nonadherence to the Pact until now had not exactly inhibited Soviet activity in the area. And finally, the Saudis could be reconciled to the move if it was explained in advance that it was intended to counter the threat of communism to the Middle East, and would not affect American–Saudi relations.7 From Teheran, ambassador Chapin reported that since the Americans’ domestic, political reasons for not joining the Pact no longer applied after the presidential elections, its Moslem members would be forced to conclude that the real reason 175


for the continuing refusal of the US to join was its unwillingness to ‘commit itself in defense [of the] Middle East’. If this view spread, it would have a ‘shattering effect on [the] morale [of ] Baghdad Pact countries’.8 A key exchange of views on the issue of joining the Pact took place between senior State Department officials and the JCS on 16 November 1956. Dulles himself was not present.* Admiral Radford, chairman of the JCS, cited a telegraphed report from Colonel Henry P. Tucker, the American military attaché in Baghdad, on his meeting with ‘responsible Iraqi army leaders’. Tucker had expressed considerable pessimism about the future of the Pact and warned that only the adherence of the US could now save it. A recent meeting in Baghdad of the Pact’s Moslem Prime Ministers had supported this view unanimously, as did all the American ambassadors in the region. Radford reiterated that the JCS too now strongly advocated American adherence. He ventured that even Israel would not now oppose such a move, ‘we could also persuade Israel that it is in its interest that the U.S. join the Pact in order to counter what might happen in Syria and to support Iraq.9 Radford warned that once Anglo-French forces withdrew from Suez, the US would have no way to counter Soviet influence in the region other than joining the Pact – and if they did not act by 1 December, they would have lost their last chance! Admiral Burke, the CNO, suggested that an American declaration of intention to join the Pact might even expedite the withdrawal of Anglo-French forces.10 The JCS also produced a novel argument – namely, that the US needed military bases in the Middle East, and that joining the Pact was the only way to get them. Radford believed that if they joined they would probably be able to establish a base in Iraq, at the northern end of the Persian Gulf.11 In a memorandum sent to the Secretary for Defense at the end of November, the JCS reasoned: The establishment of such a base would allow stockpiling and training in the area as preparatory measures to aggression. Without such a base, if the United States had to enter the area in an emergency, the effort required would be much greater and would be more expensive. The absence of a secure and adequate military base in the Middle East is a serious deficiency in our peripheral line of defense. It is a gap which the Soviets are attempting to fill.12 Robert Bowie, Director of the PPS and an influential figure in the Eisenhower administration, now intervened. He expressed misgivings about the commitments the US would be taking on if it acquired bases in the Pact area. When he asked about the significance of the Pact’s military forces that they were about to ally themselves

* Dulles was hospitalized for major cancer surgery on 3 November. After his release from the Walter Reed military hospital on 18 November, he convalesced for two weeks in Key West, Florida, and returned to the Department on 3 December 1956.

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with, Radford retorted that some of their allies in NATO and SEATO were not militarily significant either! Bowie asked whether a unilateral declaration by the US ‘that it would not let the Soviets get away with intervention in the Near East’ might not serve the same purpose as joining the Pact formally.13 Herein lay one of the early germinations of what would become the ‘Eisenhower Doctrine’ on the Middle East. Under-Secretary of State Robert Murphy told the JCS that Secretary Dulles still opposed the US joining the Pact, ‘presumably’ for the same reasons as before. Fraser Wilkins, Director of NEA, reiterated the Department’s fear that their adherence to the Pact might produce ‘a serious adverse Soviet reaction’, and added that it might also have the harmful effect of associating them more closely with the UK and France.14 Murphy consulted with Secretary Dulles in hospital directly after the meeting with the JCS. For the Secretary, the domestic political argument remained as valid as ever. Murphy reported back to Radford on the same day that the ‘Israeli factor’ still caused the Secretary ‘the greatest reservations’. Dulles still believed that ‘for the United States to enter a pact which guarantees the frontiers of Iraq would lead to irresistible pressure for a similar guarantee of Israel, and . . . would greatly embarrass us in our Arab relations’.15 Indeed, at a meeting with Foreign Minister Selwyn Lloyd in Paris, in mid-December, Dulles confessed that his ‘main consideration against joining the Pact was the problem it would create for us regarding Israel’. He doubted if the Senate would approve the US joining the Pact unless at the same time it gave to Israel some security guarantee.16 The State Department considered a proposal that the American commitment to the Northern Tier concept might be satisfied if the members of the Baghdad Pact were brought into the existing treaty system of which the US was a member. Two members, Turkey and Pakistan, already enjoyed an American guarantee, under the aegis of NATO and SEATO respectively. If Iran also joined SEATO there would then be ‘a solid United States guaranteed zone from Turkey to Pakistan’. This left out Iraq – but it had no common border with the Soviet Union, and in any case would receive automatic protection via SEATO and the Baghdad Pact. If there arose any need for it the US could make a bilateral commitment to Iraq. The US would thus be able to continue to steer clear of the Arab–Israeli conflict.17 But the idea of inducting Iran into SEATO was ruled out the next day by the PPS, on the grounds that such a move would leave Iraq as the only Pact member outside the two Western alliances, and that in any case SEATO was unlikely to agree to accept Iran. The PPS also ruled against taking on any long-term commitment, such as joining the Baghdad Pact, in order to solve what they regarded as the current, short-term crisis.18 The JCS argued in vain that Israel should regard the adherence of the US to the Pact as a lever with which the US could exert its influence on the political and military future of the region, ‘with resultant advantage to Israel’.19 However, they too were wary of giving Israel military aid of any kind. When the JSPC submitted its first draft plans for military coordination with the Pact countries, 177


the JCS cautioned: It would be most unwise for the United States to program military assistance of any form for Israel. If the United States were to initiate detailed military planning with Israel or offer military equipment to Israel, it would almost certainly result in a violent reaction by the Arab countries with a consequent severe deterioration in the U.S. Arab relationships.20 Dulles felt that the British had gravely vitiated his original strategic concept of the Pact. He resented them bitterly for having, in his opinion, taken over and manipulated the Pact for their own selfish purposes. In his opinion, this made them somehow responsible for Iraq’s behaviour, and the consequent entanglement of the Pact in the Arab–Israeli conflict: I continue to feel that it [the Pact] is largely an instrument of U.K. – Arab politics; that under the Pact the British are trying to use Iraq to advance their interests in the Middle East and that the Pact thereby becomes confused with Iraq’s violently anti-Israel attitude and also Iraq’s ambitions vis-à-vis Syria, Jordan and Saudi Arabia.21 The PPS agreed with Dulles that the UK had subverted the original goals of the Pact. This became a convenient pretext for rebuffing all overtures to join the Pact. They rehashed the traditional arguments: The original U.S. concept of the ‘Northern Tier’ was one of an indigenous organization. The Baghdad Pact, unfortunately, has been regarded by the non-member states of the area as Western-inspired and in large part UK-dominated. There is serious doubt, therefore, whether U.S. adherence would alter the prevailing view and muster for the Pact the necessary additional membership and widespread public support necessary to make it a really effective instrument for the furtherance of U.S. objectives in the area.22 The PPS also reiterated the undeniable point that the Pact had not proved effective in preventing the penetration of the Middle East by the Soviets: The Soviets appear to be capitalizing on existing tensions in the area and using psychological, economic, and covert military measures rather than direct threats of armed force. By so doing, they are, in effect, hopping over the ‘northern tier’ line.23 But America’s failure to join the Pact did not signify any indifference to its fate. The Eisenhower administration was concerned in particular about the future of Iraq, still the only Arab state in the Pact. In the immediate aftermath of Suez, Nuri Said’s pro-Western regime appeared to be in deep trouble. 178


Internal disorders swept the country after the Suez War. Widespread riots, together with external Arab pressure, gave rise to fears that Iraq was about to secede from the Pact. Nuri Said imposed martial law on the day the Suez War began, but refused to take his country out of the Pact. He mounted public relations exercises to strengthen his own position. He asserted that the Pact was directed primarily against Israel; he announced the severing of diplomatic ties with France; and he declared that henceforth only the Moslem members of the Pact would attend its meetings. For a short while the Baghdad Pact was transformed ostensibly into an ‘Islamic Pact’. But its work continued more or less as usual. The meeting of the Pact’s Military Deputies Committee, that had been scheduled to take place in Baghdad on 15 December 1956, was deferred until 7 January 1957, and held in Karachi instead. Both British and American officers took part as usual. Both Allies were welcomed to the meeting of the Pact Council that took place in Karachi in June 1957.24 At the beginning of November 1956, Nuri transmitted to Washington urgent, secret appeals for American military aid. The PPS recommended a positive response: the immediate dispatch of mobile radar, and of training crews; and the expedition of the programme for training 15 Iraqi pilots in the US. In addition, at the end of the month, the JCS proposed the temporary transfer to Iraq of 12 American F-86D, all-weather, interceptor aircraft (with their pilots and crews). These were to be taken from units on service with NATO. The JCS proposed that the American personnel should be disguised as a training mission, and the aircraft painted with Iraqi markings. But the State Department vetoed the dispatch of any aircraft to Iraq – due to fear that the move might be construed as a violation of the UN resolutions on the Middle East.25 The UK stepped in and offered to loan the Iraqis a number of Hunter IV jet fighters. In January 1957, the Cabinet’s Defence Committee went even further, and converted the loan of five of the latest version of the Hunters, the Mark VI, into an outright gift.26 On 1 February 1957, following the passage of the Eisenhower Doctrine, the JCS approved the grant of additional military aid to Iraq, sufficient to finance an increase of ground forces from two to three-and-a-half divisions. They recommended that the programme for training Iraqi pilots in the US be increased from 15 to 20 candidates, and that once the Iraqi Air Force became capable of absorbing modern aircraft, the US should consider supplying it with jet aircraft for two fighter-bomber squadrons.27

The Eisenhower Doctrine On 4 December 1956, the ambassadors of the four Moslem members of the Pact (Iraq, Iran, Turkey and Pakistan) called on Dulles at the State Department (it was his first day back at the office after cancer surgery). They urged that the best way to stabilize the situation in the Middle East would be for the US to join the Pact. The Iraqi ambassador warned that if the Pact disintegrated, the entire region would ‘be lost to 179


the free world within a few years’. Dulles replied that ‘it would be unthinkable to have the area under Soviet control’, and reassured the ambassadors that American interest in the region would be ‘amply demonstrated’. But for the present, he would say only that the way in which this would be done was still under consideration. At a subsequent meeting with the Under-Secretary of State, the Pact ambassadors were persuaded not to lobby any more in public for the adherence of the US.28 Dulles concurred with the general consensus that the US must take some immediate initiatives to encourage the four Moslem members of the Pact, and to make the American presence in the area more tangible. This had to be done before the Pact’s next full Council meeting, due to be held in Karachi in January 1957.29 In a memorandum of 17 November, the PPS had concluded that joining the Baghdad Pact ‘would not serve the U.S. national interest’. But they recommended taking three positive steps: first, that the US should join the Pact’s Military Committee, to enable American officers ‘to exert badly-needed leadership’; second, that the US should announce its readiness to allot large sums of money to the economic advance of the Pact countries (one scheme under consideration was the construction of a 4,000-mile international highway from Istanbul to Karachi); third, that the administration should issue ‘A public reaffirmation for collective security through the Baghdad Pact’.30 This ‘public reaffirmation’ would evolve into the Eisenhower Doctrine. At a meeting of NATO Ministers in Paris on 10 December 1956, Dulles told Selwyn Lloyd that the US would not be joining the Baghdad Pact. He confided that his administration did have under its consideration a declaration, to be issued as a Congressional resolution. This would authorize the President ‘to take stronger action in the area than is now possible’. It would also allow the US to become a full member of the Pact’s Military Committee, which it did in June 1957. Major General Verdi B. Barnes, chairman of the newly-established Joint Middle East Planning Committee (JMEPC), was appointed as the regular American representative.31 The Eisenhower Doctrine was published on 5 January, and approved by both Houses of Congress on 9 March 1957. The new policy document was reminiscent of the Truman Doctrine with respect to Greece and Turkey, issued almost to the day ten years previously. It authorized the President to offer military aid to any country in the Middle East that requested it, in order to help them preserve their independence from communist domination. It also authorized the President to employ American armed forces to go to the aid of any Middle Eastern state, if ‘faced with overt armed aggression from a country controlled by international communism’. However, unlike Truman in 1947, Eisenhower did not apply to Congress for any extra funding. The Doctrine simply gave him greater flexibility in the disbursement of the $200 million already appropriated by Congress for the Middle East.32 Under the new policy, the US would be able to give to the Pact all the support it possibly could, short of actually joining. At the end of April 1957, following an attempted coup against King Hussein’s regime in Jordan, the US announced a special appropriation of $10 million in emergency economic aid to that country. At the beginning of June, Eisenhower sent to Jordan a further, one-time grant of 180


$10 million in military aid, to guarantee the integrity of the Arab Legion. Just as the US had taken the UK’s place as protector of Greece and Turkey in 1947, she now performed the same service for Jordan in 1957. During the course of 1957, the US also granted $12.67 million for economic projects of the Pact.33 The Eisenhower Doctrine was calculated to meet many of the Pentagon’s desiderata. When considering its military ramifications, the JCS determined in February 1957 that its implementation would require ‘effective, realistic military planning’ with the indigenous countries of the region. This could be accomplished most effectively through the existing machinery of the Baghdad Pact, that is, its Military Committee, as well as through bilateral planning with the indigenous states. In the initial euphoria generated by the new Doctrine, the JCS proposed setting up a new Middle East Command (MECOM). However, when Air Force Chief of Staff General Nathan Twining succeeded Admiral Radford as chair of the JCS in August 1957, he determined that this would be premature. Twining argued that the modest progress made so far by the Pact did not warrant it. He pointed out that its indigenous members were still unwilling ‘to subordinate individual national aims’ to the defense of the whole region against the Soviets.34 General Twining proposed instead to set up a more modest, ‘small coordinating agency’, to be charged initially with modifying existing plans for dealing with a ‘Communist-inspired limited war in the Middle East’. The plans were to include steps to improve the logistical base for supporting both the American and the indigenous forces in this theatre. Once these plans were ready, the JCS would be able to determine the size of the American contingent that would be needed to supplement indigenous forces. The American military contribution would have to be ‘atomic-capable and [include] mobile land, sea and air forces’.35 General Twining himself attended the Pact’s Military Committee in Karachi, in June 1957 (still in his capacity as Chief of Staff, USAF). He was authorized to reassure its participants that the US was determined ‘to use nuclear weapons in resisting overt Soviet aggression’. In order to impress the Moslem members of the Pact, he was also authorized to invite the Military Secretariat to send five planners to observe a nuclear test in the Nevada Desert, planned for 1 September 1957.36 However, when it came to drawing up detailed contingency plans for the Middle East, the JCS soon discovered that the capability of the US to allot the required forces and resources to this theatre, and the readiness of the Baghdad Pact states to accommodate a Western presence, fell far short of the grandiose visions that they had entertained when pressing for the US to join the Pact. In August 1958, following the fall of the Hashemite regime in Baghdad, and the expected departure of the new regime from the Baghdad Pact, the State Department again considered whether to join it formally (see next chapter). One official commented retrospectively, ‘We are already so far involved in the Baghdad Pact organization that formal adherence would make little difference in the scale and nature of our participation.’37 In concluding this section, it is worth quoting from a British Intelligence appreciation written in March 1957, on the possibility of a ‘Limited Nuclear War up to 181


1962’. It affords an authentic insight not only into the British conception of their own commitment to the Baghdad Pact, but also into what they understood was now the de facto American commitment: A Soviet attack upon a member of the Baghdad Pact would oblige the U.K. to come to the aid of that country in accordance with her treaty obligations. Although the United States has not formally acceded to full membership of the Pact, she has now joined the Military Committee, and the promulgation of the Eisenhower Doctrine will lead the Soviet Union to think that she will come to the aid of Middle East countries in the event of Soviet aggression. The danger of global war, in which they would have failed to strike the first blow in the right place, must therefore be so apparent to the Soviet leaders that we do not consider that in present circumstances they are likely to attack the Baghdad Pact countries.38

Anglo-American rapprochement For the British, the Suez War was indeed a painful lesson, but one that was learned instantly. It brought home to the country’s leaders the UK’s real international proportions. National priorities became rapprochement with the US, and a drastic cutback on overseas commitments. Military budgets had to be cut drastically. The Americans would be needed to shore up the UK’s emasculated position in the Middle East. The enlistment of their aid in ensuring the uninterrupted flow of oil from the Middle East became a fundamental axiom of British strategy, ‘an essential aim in the Middle East is to influence the United States to adopt a firm policy on the maintenance of Western oil interests and the means of transport and opposition to Russian infiltration.’39 This tidal change did not pass without the occasional reservation from within the Establishment. The thought of mortgaging the country’s foreign policy to the Americans was hard to digest in one gulp. One caveat that arrived at the Foreign Office from Cairo was penned by Terence W. Garvey, a Counsellor at the Embassy there, who had served previously as head of the American Department at the Foreign Office. He commented graphically on the significance and dire consequences of subordination to the US: ‘The clear answer is that we can only afford not merely a Middle East policy that plays second fiddle to the Americans, but a second fiddle policy for which the Americans are prepared substantially to pay. Is this right?’40 Garvey went on to question the need to reduce military expenditures in the Middle East. He pointed out that the military had failed to balance their estimates of current and future spending in the Middle East (an estimated £50 million) against the prospective revenues from the UK’s oil concessions in the region. He concluded acerbically: ‘We seem to expect the Middle East to pay for divisions in Germany, canned peaches and the British standard of living, without making the necessary investment to ensure that our essential needs from the area are forthcoming.’41 But Garvey’s views did not evoke any support at Whitehall. They 182


elicited no sympathy from Duncan Sandys, MacMillan’s Minister for Defence (January 1957–October 1959), and much less from the Prime Minister himself, who as Chancellor of the Exchequer had gone through a sobering transmutation during the Suez Crisis and War. The top levels of Eisenhower’s administration had been traumatized by the sheer irresponsibility of Eden’s behaviour in November 1956, and were determined to prevent any reckless replays of Suez. However, they did appreciate the need to close ranks with their Atlantic ally. Indeed, because the UK’s position in the Middle East had been seriously prejudiced by the abortive Anglo-French operation, the US realized that it would have to take the lead in ‘maintaining and restoring the Western position in the area’.42 But the US had no intention of usurping of any of the UK’s remaining outposts in the Middle East. However, the US did determine to take the lead in the region and, where necessary, to impose her will. This thinking is reflected in a confidential State Department minute written in mid-November 1956, when passions still ran high over the Suez crisis: If the British ever got the idea . . . that we were trying to freeze them out of the Near East, they would probably close ranks and take further drastic and ill-considered steps to maintain the remnants of their position in the area. [However] the UK role in the Near East must be reduced and the US role increased.43 The Anglo-American ‘special relationship’ was officially revived at the Summit conference held at Bermuda in March 1957. At the personal level, the president’s chemistry with Prime Minister MacMillan was almost the exact antithesis of that with his predecessor, Anthony Eden. Eisenhower and MacMillan had first met in Algeria in January 1943, where the latter was serving as British Minister Resident, Mediterranean. Eisenhower later described him as ‘one of my intimate wartime friends’. In 1957, the president still referred to MacMillan as one of his ‘wartime comrades and friends of long standing’. He would describe the Bermuda summit as the ‘most successful international meeting’ that he’d taken part in since World War Two.44 This did not mean that the Allies agreed on all issues pertaining to the Middle East. The Americans thought that the British view was distorted by their continuing, blind hatred for Nasser. In the post-traumatic period after Suez, they made it quite clear to the British that they would not become involved in any further attempts to unseat the Egyptian ruler.45 The Allies confronted two fundamental problems in their search for a willing, Western-oriented Arab leader whom they could sponsor; first, that Nasser was so popular with the Arab masses; and second, their inability to come up with a good alternative. Ibn Saud, whose leadership the Americans sponsored in 1957, was to prove a dismal disappointment. It is worth digressing at this point on the Allies’ post-Suez attitudes to Nasser. Any lingering illusions held by the Americans about the Egyptian leader would be dissipated during the course of 1958. 183


In June 1958, Dulles told an Anglo-American summit meeting at the White House: ‘Popular feeling throughout the Middle East tended to favour Nasser, even in countries where the Rulers were hostile to him.’46 At the same meeting, Eisenhower was more blunt: ‘It was necessary to find an alternative leader [to Nasser] in the Middle East and to build him up. If this could not be done, we should face the choice between eliminating Nasser and taking him over.’47 On 31 July 1958 (after the Anglo-American landings in Jordan and the Lebanon respectively), Dulles treated a closed meeting of the NSC to his views of the Egyptian leader. His exposition reflects the continuing preoccupation of Western statesmen with drawing the right ‘lessons’ from the traumatic events in Europe during the late 1930s. Dulles took a cynical, bitter and basically patronizing view of Nasser. He compared him to Hitler – both men of ‘insatiable ambition’. He even suggested that their careers were very similar, except for the fact that Nasser, fortunately, did ‘not control great military power’. But Dulles, like Eisenhower, recognized that Nasser’s ‘unbroken series of successes’, due largely to American support, had made him appear as ‘the first successful leader of the Arab world in a thousand years’. As such, he was now a ‘hero of the masses’. Therefore, it would not be wise to oppose everything that Nasser did. The only thing left to them, apparently, was to try to check his ambitions, and ‘to break the chain’ of his successes, and shatter the myth of his invincibility.48 It is apposite to note that British strategists too (if not all their political superiors) had in fact reached very similar conclusions by the end of 1958: ‘The United Kingdom should, where appropriate, be prepared to come to terms with Arab nationalism, even when controlled by Nasser, to counter Soviet penetration.’49 At the Bermuda Summit, both Eisenhower and Dulles sounded out the British on their new policy of building up Ibn Saud as the best way of deflating Nasser. A dramatic visit by the Saudi ruler to Washington in February 1957 had appeared to signal his country’s adherence to the Western camp. Ibn Saud secured from the Americans a generous economic and military aid package, a new agreement on the Dhahran airbase that was more favourable to Saudi Arabia, and an American commitment to secure the early withdrawal of Israeli forces from the Sinai peninsula (which Eisenhower duly fulfilled in March 1957).50 In the American view, the major remaining obstacle to a full Saudi rapprochement with the West was a settlement of the Buraimi Oasis crisis, which had soured relations between the UK and the Saudis for the past five years.51 This had become such a burning issue for Ibn Saud that during his visit to Washington, he had asked the President to mediate between him and the British. At the summit Eisenhower and Dulles repeatedly pressed the British side ‘to make some move on the question of Buraimi’, in order to reach a settlement that would ‘satisfy both the Gulf Sheikhs and King Saud’. The British, who felt that handing over the Buraimi oasis to Ibn Saud would mean effectively handing over both Muscat and Oman as well, responded that the oasis did not belong to them, but to the Sheikh of Abu Dhabi and to the Sultan of Muscat. In the best of post-Munich traditions, 184


both Lloyd and MacMillan repeated that they could not betray their friends.52 No progress was made on Buraimi at Bermuda. However, the dispute was discussed further between the Allies, at Stage III of the Bermuda summit, held in London in June 1957. At these talks between Hugh Trevelyan, the ex-British ambassador to Egypt, and Loy Henderson, the Americans finally conceded the British point of view. The US accepted a British plan to sponsor a personal meeting between Kind Saud and the Sultan of Muscat and Oman – not to negotiate a settlement of the dispute, but to try to generate a conducive climate in which the two rulers might find it possible to reach a settlement.53 The Bermuda discussions reflected a conflict of interests in the Middle East. Each side suspected that the other was concerned mainly to further its own economic interests. The British perceived American oil interests (represented by the oil conglomerate ARAMCO) as lying behind the American sponsorship of Ibn Saud. This was perhaps inevitable, for they regarded their own oil interests in the Persian Gulf, especially in Kuwait, as a vital strut of the British economy. However, the point to be made is that the Allies’ conflicting economic interests were not allowed to impede the pursuit of their common strategic interests in the region. Each side was very conscious of the fact that they could not afford another Suez. Therefore, Buraimi notwithstanding, both Eisenhower and Dulles took great pains at Bermuda to reassure the British of their desire for close cooperation in the Middle East. Dulles promised that the US was determined to become more involved in the region in the future. Eisenhower emphasized the need for ‘close prior consultation with the British regarding such matters as aid and the stationing of troops in this general area’. He assured them that if anything, the US wanted ‘to build them up again in the Middle East’. The Foreign Ministers of both countries were directed to continue with close consultations after the summit. Their officials were to complete a joint study on the future of the region by 15 April 1957. A study, dealing first ‘with those aspects of the problems bearing upon the supply of oil to the free world’, was to be completed. A joint public declaration issued at the end of the conference symbolized the restitution of the ‘special relationship’.54 The most significant, concrete expression of the Americans’ renewed commitment to the UK was their agreement to the stationing in East Anglia of 60 intercontinental Thor missiles, to be controlled by London and Washington under a dual-key system. The motive behind this move has been attributed by more than one scholar to the Allies’ mutual desire ‘to repair the damage done by the Suez crisis’.55 The agreement was a significant breakthrough, since nuclear cooperation had been ruled out by Washington in 1951, following the exposure of the British nuclear spy Klaus Fuchs.56 In fact, the Thor missile agreement was a publicized end product of ongoing staff talks on nuclear cooperation between senior American and British officers that had begun in London the previous August. In December 1956, these contacts had resulted in an American agreement to coordinate Allied nuclear strike plans, and to provide the RAF with American nuclear weapons in the event of general war.57 185


The launch of the Soviets’ Sputnik rocket into space in October 1957 served as an even greater incentive to the renewal and expansion of Anglo-American nuclear cooperation. A Congressional amendment to the MacMahon Atomic Energy Act of 1954 (which had limited the sharing of American nuclear secrets), was enacted shortly thereafter. In 1958 and 1959, two further Anglo-American agreements paved the way to a greater sharing of nuclear technology. These agreements amounted to a repeal of the MacMahon Act.58 As for the Middle East, Anglo-American collaboration at the next session of the Baghdad Pact’s ministerial council, held in Karachi in June 1956, improved to such an extent that Selwyn Lloyd waxed positively euphoric. He cabled home: ‘Our cooperation with the Yanks was first class and I have sent a friendly message to Foster about it.’59

British strategy in the Middle East after Suez The Suez crisis was barely resolved when British planners were set the task of re-defining the nation’s vital overseas interests and commitments, especially those in the Middle East. Soviet threats to the UK during the crisis were not taken seriously. It was not believed that they would risk starting a global war by taking any military action in the region.60 But the UK remained determined to assure for herself the military cooperation of the Northern Tier countries against the longterm threat of Soviet aggression. The principal emphasis was laid now on the need to counter Soviet penetration of the Middle East during the Cold War. It became axiomatic that any vacuum created by a British departure from the region would be ‘filled by Russian and/or Egyptian influence’.61 Planning for the Middle East theatre was complicated by the presence of an ‘air barrier’ across which British aircraft were no longer permitted to fly. This barrier now extended from Syria in the north, south through Israel and Jordan, to Egypt and Saudi Arabia. Its removal became one of the UK’s prime strategic objectives. The Foreign Office suggested that since this barrier was detrimental not only to British, but also to Western (i.e. NATO) interests, they should persuade the Americans ‘to initiate plans to promote a “fertile crescent” prepared to cooperate with the West through the Baghdad Pact’.62 The Cabinet reaffirmed that the UK’s principal interest in the Middle East remained its oil reserves.63 In December 1956, a senior official at the Foreign Office noted that, so long as we, both as consumers and as part suppliers, are dependent so completely on the Middle East for oil, we must recognise the need to commit enough resources to ensure our vital requirements, even though this means running risks elsewhere.64 A review of the UK’s major strategic goals in the Middle East in the event of global war, written in mid-1957, gave third priority to the region’s oil. The goals 186


were defined as: 1 2 3 4

5

Support for the southern flank of NATO. Support for the Baghdad Pact. The security of the oil-producing areas in the Persian Gulf [Iraq and Iran]. The security of British-held territories and those with which the government had treaty relationships [Aden and British-protected territories in the Persian Gulf]. The securing of essential bases and sea and air communications.65

By 1957, the island of Cyprus remained the UK’s sole strategic asset in the Eastern Mediterranean. The UK’s ability to protect its interests in the Middle East during a global war would now rest upon this small island, which was supposed to provide bases and logistical support for British bombers taking part in the Allied strategic air offensive (for details, see chapter 8). But the security of Cyprus itself would depend upon the fate of Allied operations in other theatres.66 The Baghdad Pact was now the sole institution in the Middle East with which the Allies might collaborate.67 The Defence Ministry defined its value as being: ‘In the political stability which it promotes in an area of vital importance to us because of its oil, and in promoting our influence in this part of the Middle East.’68 British planners reiterated their entrenched strategic concept of the Pact – one that had only been reinforced by Suez: whereas the Pact was ‘ostensibly a global war defence organisation against the USSR’, it also provided ‘a cold-war instrument to keep Communism out of the Middle East’. As such, the Pact would have to receive unequivocal British support.69 Anthony Head, Minister of Defence until January 1957, reaffirmed that British support of the Baghdad Pact was now fundamentally political rather than military in nature. But the continued allegiance of the indigenous members of the Pact would depend upon the Allies making a credible military commitment: On purely military grounds, preparations on the lines likely to be expected by the four eastern members of the Pact would have the lowest priority in the allocation of resources from the Defence budget. Nevertheless... because of the political importance of the Pact the U.K. must provide sufficient military support to maintain the Pact as an effective organization.70 (my emphasis) The British goal, therefore, was to keep their military commitment in the Middle East to that minimum that would retain the confidence of the Pact members. This remained true even if, as conceded by the Minister for Defence, the minimum contemplated by the COS was ‘little more than a façade’71 (on the façade, see also chapter 2). At the Bermuda summit, MacMillan disclosed to Eisenhower and Dulles the force reductions contemplated by the Sandy’s White Paper (see chapter 1). He 187


stated that the British economy could no longer continue to support its present defence establishment. During the previous five years, defence spending had stood at an annual 10 percent of the British GNP. The goal of the new White Paper was to reduce that to 7 percent by 1962.72 MacMillan asserted that ‘half [of] British technical manpower’ was absorbed by military work, and the stationing overseas of so many troops was imposing too heavy a burden on the nation’s balance of payments account. The number of servicemen would therefore be cut, from the current 750,000, in all three services, to 380,000 to 400,000 by 1960. By that time, all British forces would have been withdrawn from Jordan and Libya. British interests in the Persian Gulf would be protected by forces based in Aden, together with reserves held in East Africa, and by a naval task force in the Indian Ocean.73 British planners, continued MacMillan, were therefore confronted with the political decision that the economy would be unable to ‘support the raising of any additional land forces’. On D-day, the UK would be unable to commit to the Middle East any more than a few small, specialist land units, and those air forces and ships that were already deployed in the region.74 In 1957, the UK had approximately one ground division, the Third, deployed at various stations around the Mediterranean area. The majority were in Cyprus, engaged on security duties; there was also a reduced Royal Marine Commando Brigade on Malta. As the situation on Cyprus quietened down, it was hoped to reduce the garrison there to one brigade group, which would become part of the UK’s Strategic Reserve. The armoured brigade stationed in Libya would be withdrawn to the UK. The Third division’s 16th Independent Parachute Brigade and 24th Infantry Brigade would be earmarked as a ‘world-wide strategic reserve’.75 At the end of 1956, the UK planned to contribute a single battalion (stationed in Kenya) to the forces that would have to take the brunt of a Soviet offensive against the Middle East. There would be no commitment to send out reinforcements to the region once war began.76 The sole British contribution to the Middle Eastern front on D-Day would amount to two specialist units of Royal Engineers. These would be engaged on the demolitions planned for the Zagros passes in northern Iraq (see Map 2), and the sabotage of oil installations in the Persian Gulf. Plans drawn up at the end of 1956 provided for the dispatch to the Paitak Pass of one brigade group and an armoured regiment – the former was expected to arrive at the Pass on D-Day ⫹ 10–30 days, and the latter on D-day ⫹ 10–45 days. However, the dispatch of even these limited forces would depend upon the construction of a land LOC to north-eastern Iraq, and a substantial airlift of equipment to, as yet, non-existent forward supply depots.77 It was appreciated that the paucity of conventional forces available for the Middle East front meant that Allied strategy in the region would have to depend more than ever upon the strategic air offensive and, by the late 1950s, also upon the use of battlefield, tactical nuclear weapons. The future viability of the Baghdad Pact would depend upon the Allies’ ability to convince its indigenous members of their ability and readiness to employ nuclear weapons in their defence.78 188


At the end of 1956, the MEAF, based on Cyprus, comprised two squadrons of Canberra medium-range bombers, two squadrons of Venom DF/GA fighters and one fighter reconnaissance squadron.* The JPS proposed that the aircraft currently deployed with the MEAF should be equipped with nuclear weapons, and be declared available for operations on the Baghdad Pact front. But the COS feared that the two Canberra squadrons would be insufficient to convince the Moslem members of the Pact of the UK’s ability and intention ‘to provide the nuclear support required’. Therefore, in January 1957, the Defence Committee approved a plan for the future deployment of two additional squadrons of Canberra aircraft to the Middle East. It was hoped that these additional squadrons could be drawn from those currently on duty with NATO forces in Europe. This transfer would be offset by the dispersal of the two larger DF/GA squadrons currently on duty with the MEAF. The Canberras would operate from bases on Cyprus, and it was expected to deploy most of them to north-eastern Iraq by D-day ⫹ 3.79 In financial terms, the government budgeted £2 million to the Baghdad Pact, to be spread over the next four years. The money would be spent on the construction of strategic infrastructures, such as airfields and roads. In addition, an annual sum of £50,000 would be made available for the supply of technical aid and equipment, and for the payment of permanent staff expenses. And finally, a special, one-time outlay of £300,000 was authorized for the supply of an earlywarning radar system to Iran, which had none.80

Taking stock of the Baghdad Pact The Allies harboured few illusions about the Pact’s inherent debility, its internal dissensions, and its committees’ failure to make any significant military progress during its short existence. An inventory of the Pact’s ‘political and military’ development drawn up for Eisenhower in preparation for his talks in Washington with MacMillan, in October 1957, noted the following divisive and negative features, the ambivalent attitude of the present weak Iraqi Government, a resulting restiveness on the part of Iran and Turkey, persistent efforts by Pakistan to employ the Pact in its disputes with India, lingering distrust of British motives, limited public understanding of the Pact’s objectives, and the continuing opposition of Saudi Arabia, Jordan, etc.81 As noted already, the Suez War had compromised Iraq fatally in Arab eyes, for being associated with a military Pact in which the UK was a member. Turkey * A regular RAF bomber squadron usually numbered from 8–10 aircraft; a fighter squadron contained up to 16 aircraft.

189


became disenchanted with the Pact after Suez. In particular, she resented the fact that its members, conspicuously Iraq, had failed to support her in her disputes with Syria and the USSR. After a series of Leftist, pro-Nasserite victories at by-elections in Syria in May 1957, Turkey became concerned at becoming ‘strategically outflanked’ by the establishment of a communist state on her southern border. The Turks pressed their NATO and Baghdad Pact allies in vain to intervene in Syria. During the summer of 1957, Turkey increased her own troop concentrations along her border with Syria from 32,000 to 50,000.82 For their part, the Allies were dubious about the extent to which Turkey would be able to contribute any military aid to the Middle East – given that her armed forces were already committed in full to NATO. No resolution to this problem appeared to be possible, as the Defence Department opposed any reduction of the Turkish commitment in Europe.83 And finally, there was Pakistan. At the meetings of the Pact’s various institutions it became crystal clear that Pakistan had joined only for what it could get out of it. Pakistan was preoccupied with settling her accounts with India to the east, and with her fears of a possible Soviet invasion from the north, via Afghanistan. These issues placed the UK in a particularly sensitive position, given its historical role in India, and India’s membership of the British Commonwealth. But the British were able to reassure themselves that through its ‘selfishness’, Pakistan had forfeited ‘all sympathy for her position and . . . any hope of success in the Moslem lobby against the United Kingdom’.84 Pakistan’s own national agenda prevented it from disclosing the real extent of its military contribution to the Pact – Pakistan was not prepared to reveal what proportion of its army and air forces would be deployed in East Pakistan. As a result, Pakistan declared only light infantry forces as being available for the defence of its northern front against a possible Soviet invasion.85 It also attempted to have the Pact’s military committee prepare a study of, and draw up plans to counter an aggression against Pakistan by Afghanistan. The attempt was scuttled in short order by both the UK and the US – on the grounds that any Afghan invasion, unaided by the Soviets, could be handled perfectly well by Pakistan’s own existing forces. The State Department feared also that the leak of a Pact staff study against Afghanistan might impel the latter from its current neutral, accommodating disposition towards Pakistan, to a position ‘closer to the Soviet camp’.86 In January 1958, one year after the issue of the Eisenhower Doctrine, Dulles himself attended a meeting of the Pact’s Council in Ankara. He reported back to the NSC in Washington, with no small degree of self-satisfaction, that the Pact would have fallen apart had it not been for American support, under the aegis of the new Doctrine. He had consciously refrained from reminding those assembled in Ankara that the Americans were merely observers at the meeting, and had told them that the American commitment to the Pact was ‘at least as strong’ as that of the Pact members themselves.87 At Ankara, Dulles had a chance to observe at first hand the endemic weaknesses of the Pact. He concluded that its two weakest links 190


now were Iran and Iraq. He was preoccupied with the dangers inherent in the fact that Iraq still remained the only Arab state in the Baghdad Pact – now regarded in the Arab world as an obstruction to Arab unity.88 He did not apparently imagine that some six months later the Hashemite dynasty in Baghdad, along with Nuri Said, would be swept away. The question of Iran – its strategic importance combined with its military impotence – still perturbed the Americans. Dulles had nothing but derision for the Shah of Iran. He reported that the Shah considered himself to be a ‘military genius’, and sought only to enhance his country’s military posture in relation to that of his militarily stronger neighbours – Pakistan and Turkey. The Shah believed that in order to convince his own people of his ability to defend them, ‘he must have greater visible power equipped with modern weapons’. The Shah’s geo-strategic prognosis was that in the event of a general war, the Russians would pour ‘into the gap between the two strong powers of Pakistan and Turkey’, that is, into Iran. Dulles claimed that it was only his own arrival in Ankara that had prevented the Shah from carrying out his threat to take Iran out of the Pact.89 Iran’s continuing insistence on a strategy of defending the Elburz Gap will be considered below.

Military and strategic planning In retrospect, the Baghdad Pact may now be judged to have been militarily a non-starter. Relations between the Allies and the Pact’s indigenous members were never harmonious, and the latter clearly had their own individual agenda. The Allies continued to be frustrated by the Moslem members’ pre-occupation with their own ‘parochial’ interests, and rued the fact that they still had only ‘a basically limited awareness of the Communist threat.’90 But at the time, the Pact evidently held out promise for all those concerned, not least for the US. At the very minimum, it kept its four Moslem members identified with and aligned to the West during the Cold War, at a time when Egypt, and after her Syria, appeared have opted for the Soviet embrace. The Allies also drew encouragement from the fact that the Pact had survived the Suez Crisis. And for all of its evident shortcomings, the Pact still remained the only instrument upon which the Allies might base their strategic planning in the Middle East. For their part, the indigenous members of the Pact attributed the sluggishness of its military planning to the Allies’ refusal to declare specific military commitments.91 They could hardly have known just how much substance there was in their plaints. When it came to concrete planning for the Middle East, the JCS soon ‘discovered’ that all American forces were in fact already fully committed to D-day missions in other theatres, and none would therefore be available for the Middle East – not even the limited mobile forces, with nuclear capabilities, that they had planned for.92 On 23 October 1957, the JCS did approve a ‘Middle East Emergency Plan’ (ME-EDP 1–57), which included a ‘concept for the defense of the Middle East in 191


general war’. But when forwarding it to the Middle East command at the end of 1957, the JCS drew conclusions that resembled those drawn by their counterparts in London the previous spring: Plans for the Middle East in general war are meaningless until U.S. forces are specifically allocated and a headquarters and communications in the area are provided. Until that is done, U.S. operations in defense of the Middle East and military support of the Baghdad Pact Organization in general war will be limited to operations by Strategic Air Command.93 The major points of dissension at the April 1956 session of the Pact’s military deputies had been about the size of the air forces needed for the Northern Tier theatre, in particular about the Day Fighter/Ground Attack (DF/GA) aircraft. The Pakistanis had insisted upon large ground-attack air forces as well as a larger fighter defence force. Turkey, Iran and Iraq all calculated their GA requirements in relation to the number of divisions they expected to deploy. They followed Pakistan’s example of first inflating their demands, and then demanding reserves in a relation of 50 to 100 percent of their front-line force. By the time they had added on transport aircraft, they arrived at a grand total of no less than 3,000 aircraft. It was only Turkey’s intervention that brought Iraq and Iran down to earth, to accepting the Turkish view that just 650 DF/GA aircraft would suffice to cope with all operations against an offensive ‘from east Turkey through to West Pakistan’. The British still believed that 450 DF/GA aircraft would be enough.94 A compromise of sorts was reached at a later session of the Pact’s Military Committee held in Ankara in January 1958. The Pact’s target was now set at 625 aircraft. An interim target of a total of 300 aircraft (25 fighter squadrons) was set for 1960. Iraq was to provide six of these squadrons.95 Similar squabbles and haggling marked the debates on the Pact’s projected land forces. The initial demands made by the indigenous representatives – for a total 2 land force of 223 divisions to defend their front against a Soviet threat estimated at 1 16 2 were whittled down by the Allies to 16 divisions. But the British officers who sat on the Military Deputies Committee still deplored this as an ‘unrealistically high’ estimate. They reported back: Whenever areas that had not been reconnoitred under Pact auspices were being considered, acrimonious discussion ensued. It was obvious that excessive demands were being made . . . In the case of one area with which a UK planner was personally acquainted, the ‘force requirement’ was speedily reduced by half.96 The military deputies committee worked intensively, both before and after the military coup in Iraq, in July 1958.97 An idea of its work may be gleaned from a report written in May 1958 by General Twining, on the studies then being prepared by the planners. These studies, which he expected to be discussed by the 192


committee at its next meeting, scheduled for 9 June 1958, included: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8

Air Defense of the B[aghdad] P[act] area in Global War. Naval Force Requirements as tabled by Pakistan. Mine Defense Plan of the Shatt-el-Arab. Review of Pact Infrastructure Problems. The Threat to the BP area in Global War. Air Force Requirements for the BP area. Land Forces Study. Suggested Amendments to the Study on Nuclear Targets proposed by Pakistan. 9 Reports on BP exercises. 10 Reports on intelligence maps and charts. 11 Reports on Liaison between NATO and SEATO.98 However, there was something academic about it all. Not only was it unclear how many, if any, Allied forces would be available for the Middle East theatre, but the military contributions offered by each of the indigenous states could hardly be regarded as significant. In some cases they were downright pathetic. None but the Turks were willing to commit any forces to fight outside of their own territory in the campaign against a Soviet offensive. But as noted already, the Turkish commitment was in fact quite meaningless, since their army, the strongest of all those in the Pact, was already fully committed to NATO.99 The Iraqi government had stated publicly that its membership of the Pact did not commit it to use its armed forces outside its own frontiers. Neither would it sanction the deployment on Iraqi soil of the armed forces of any other member of the Pact, not even in transit. At the meeting of the military deputies held in April 1956, Iraq had strongly resisted the proposed move of two Turkish divisions into the Mosul area in northern Iraq – on the grounds that this would place undue strain upon her LOCs. The Iraqis in fact had their own good reason for objecting – namely, the fear that the presence of Turkish troops in this region would provoke unrest among the Kurds living there.100 Pakistan was prepared to commit only a few units of her ‘lightly armed Frontier corps’. She had tried to solicit the Pact’s help against her troublesome neighbour, Afghanistan, while deploying the bulk of her own forces along her borders with India. Iran declared only those formations that were in any case deployed in positions adjacent to the main axes of an enemy advance. These formations were ‘extremely weak by Western standards’, and relied mainly on animal transport. The Iranians were preoccupied with domestic problems of internal security with their Kurdish tribes. In sum, neither Iraq, nor Iran, nor Pakistan were willing to deploy its forces further forward than to positions which they believed to be necessary for the protection of their own national interests. In view of the UK’s reluctance to declare its own minimal land contribution, the UK hardly felt in a position to criticize.101 193


Allied strategy for the Middle East continued, therefore, to rely upon ‘nuclear air interdiction’, either by ‘strategic or theatre nuclear strike forces’. In January 1957, the JCS instructed a special Middle East planning committee to recommend ‘the most practicable and efficient manner’ of providing an American small ‘atomic delivery capability in the Middle East’. The committee was asked to detail the tasks, stationing, control and coordination of the delivery forces.102 Their role would be to decimate the attacking Soviet air and land forces. It was hoped that the comparatively limited indigenous conventional forces of the Pact would be able (with suitable Allied training and equipment) to deal with whatever remained of the Soviets’ initial thrust.103 Neither the UK nor the US were willing to specify for Pact members the extent of their nuclear commitment to the Middle East theatre. However, in an attempt to reduce the inflated demands of the Pact’s indigenous members for conventional land forces down to realistic levels, they did agree to draw up a list of nuclear targets in the Soviet Union and in Sinkiang. This was confirmed at the meeting of the Pact’s Military Committee in April 1956.104

Iran and the Elburz strategic concept Despite all the dissensions within the Pact, strategic planning for the Baghdad Pact theatre proceeded apace. With Turkey solidly inside the Western strategic system, American attention focused on South-East Asia, on Iran in particular. The debate on the relative merits of the Elburz and Zagros strategic concepts continued (see Map 2). In the wake of the Suez War, the British commanders, Middle East, had warned that ‘in view of the recent political realignments’ in the region they would now be unable to implement existing plans, drafted in August 1955, for a global war in the Middle East. These had contemplated holding a Soviet offensive at ‘the passes leading from Persia to Iraq’, that is, at the Zagros mountains. However, due to the Iranians’ insistence upon the Elburz line, the Pact’s strategic plans for 1957 were based upon the concept of ‘holding the enemy on all his main avenues of approach’ (i.e. at the Elburz as well). The planners warned that this strategy was ‘militarily unsound’, and ‘likely to fail everywhere’. Nonetheless, they resigned themselves to the fact that higher political considerations made it impossible to alter it.105 The Americans, like their British counterparts, had tried in vain to persuade the Iranians that the best defensive line for the Northern Tier lay at the Zagros passes. But an Allied commitment to the Elburz remained a sine qua non for Iranian membership of the Pact. But strategic planning at the Pentagon underwent a radical transformation during the course of 1957. Admiral Radford himself (chairman of the JCS until August 1957), was apparently converted to the merits of the Elburz Line. Of course, this made a military ‘virtue’ of a political necessity. As a result, military budgets for Iran mushroomed. In 1955, American military aid programmes to Iran had stood at $34 million for fiscal year (FY) 1956, and $25 million each for FYs 1957 and 1958. The 194


extension in mid-1956 of the original Zagros concept to include ‘a more extensive defense zone in both the Elburz and Zagros Mountains’ had led to an increase in the Pentagon’s estimates for construction costs – from an original $70 million in 1956, to £152 million in January 1957, to $230 million by the next month, February 1957. The extra money was required for new army and air bases, access roads, army housing and other military facilities that were now planned for northern Iran. The $230 million was in addition to $185 million still owed as ‘undelivered balances’ from previous years. This all added up to a staggering estimated total expenditure of $410 million in military aid to Iran over the coming four fiscal years 1957 to 1960.106 The proposed additional expenditures brought the Pentagon into direct conflict with the State Department and the president. The former, evidently with the British experience in mind, still harboured grave political reservations about stationing American forces in this volatile part of the world. Even if any of the Pact countries had displayed any enthusiasm for the construction of foreign bases or stores depots on their territory – which they did not – both the Allies were by now extremely wary of doing so.107 In March 1957, the department pressed for urgent consultations with the Defense Department, ‘before positions became frozen’, and expressed concern ‘lest Defense may be counting on the deployment of troops and the establishment of bases in locations where they would be either unacceptable to the nations of the area or dangerously provocative to the USSR or both’.108 The issued was debated at meetings of the NSC in February 1957 and again in August. President Eisenhower took issue with the strategic logic of defending the Elburz. With his distinguished military record, he was well equipped to do so. After World War Two, when he had served as ‘temporary presiding officer of the JCS’, and then as first Supreme Allied Commander, Europe, he had played an active role in American contingency planning.109 On 7 February 1957, the NSC adopted NSC 5703, ‘U.S. Policy Toward Iran’. It reflects admirably contemporary American strategic thinking on Iran: Militarily, Iran is dangerously and directly exposed to Soviet expansion. Iran’s defenses are totally inadequate for such a threat . . . The Shah has accepted the U.S.-recommended pattern for the Iranian armed forces, although periodically he reverts to his oft-repeated desire for forces comparable to those created in Turkey with U.S. assistance. However, if he built up to presently contemplated levels and partially redeployed, Iranian forces could make an increased contribution to Middle East security by providing, with outside air and logistic support, a defensive delaying capability against Soviet forces, initially from positions in the Elburz mountains along Iran’s northern frontier.110 Eisenhower questioned Admiral Radford closely on his conversion to the Elburz strategic concept. He asked ‘whether the natural route of a Soviet invasion 195


would not be along the west of the Caspian Sea’. When Radford replied in the affirmative, Eisenhower referred to the map, and suggested that if that were the case, the Soviets would easily outflank and turn the Elburz Mountain line. Radford bypassed Eisenhower’s question, and replied that he himself had flown over the entire area, and had now reached the conclusion that the Elburz was superior to the Zagros line. He also reminded the President that in any case, the Iranians will not make any military plans with us at all if our plans do not appear to involve the defense of their country, which would not be the case if the defense was based upon the Zagros mountains in the extreme south of the country.111 Eisenhower was not convinced. During the course of a further NSC discussion on 8 August 1957, Robert Cutler, Special Assistant to the President for National Security Affairs, elaborated upon the details of the extra expenditures in Iran. Eisenhower asked if the Iranians really had the military capability of defending the Elburz and Zagros lines against aggression, or: ‘[Are] we going to adopt this policy primarily as a sop to Iranian national pride?’ Radford insisted that ‘the Elburz line was a much better defensive line than the Zagros’, and claimed that the new facilities being built with American money would ensure that the Elburz ‘provided more effective defense than the line of the Zagros’. Defense Secretary Wilson gave his full support to the JCS, stressing Iran’s strategic importance for the US. There was also considerable, but inconclusive, debate on whether the US should continue increasing her military expenditures in Iran each year.112 The ‘Iranian problem’ – the conflict between military orthodoxy and realpolitik – apparently remained intractable. In February 1958, in his report back to the NSC on the Pact Council meeting held in Ankara the previous month, Dulles lamented that they had still ‘not developed an adequate military doctrine for the Near East, and particularly for Iran’. He warned that they would have to devote more attention to that country in the future, and make larger forces available for her defence than they currently had. They would have to help Iran ‘get rid of the pervasive fear...of a Soviet invasion’ which, Dulles asserted, now amounted almost to an obsession.113 Dulles informed the NSC that the Pact’s military committee, on Iran’s insistence, had decided that 16 divisions were required in that country – whereas they had just six! Cutler reminded him that recent revisions of the Pact’s strategy had moved the defence line even further to the north of Iran, while at the same time cutting down force levels in that country! The US had taken a firm stand that only ten divisions were required.114 But this was not the end of the story. Following the fall of the Hashemite regime in Iraq in July 1958, and the consequent departure of that country from the Pact, the Shah indicated that his requirements were ‘20, and possibly 24, army divisions’. It was quite clear that there could be no meeting of Iranian and Allied minds on the question of force levels. However, in September 1958, the US 196


did commit herself ‘to provide the Iranian armed forces with additional training assistance on a selected but an intensified basis’ and, in view of her accelerated military build-up, to increase the levels of American economic aid to Iran.115 Even if the JCS had switched to the Elburz strategy, they did not in fact go all the way to meeting the Shah’s demands. He wanted to ensure the territorial integrity of as much of Iran as possible – including its barren north-eastern corner. But the JCS were guided by military and geo-strategic calculations – the integrity of the Baghdad Pact theatre of operations as a whole. They opted therefore for a defence of ‘Azerbaijan and the Elburz north of Teheran, at the expense of eastern Iran.’They determined that it was not worth dedicating Allied forces to the defence of eastern Iran (as the Shah demanded) because there were no ‘major strategic objectives’ there. Therefore, a Soviet occupation of that area would have no ‘major impact’ on the fate of the Baghdad Pact theatre in general. They concluded: The Soviets would have to traverse over 500 miles of difficult country to Teheran and approximately 1000 miles to the Persian Gulf. The great distances to strategically important areas, the long difficult lines of communications, and the vulnerability of these communications to air attack, make a strong defense of Eastern Iran near the Soviet frontier militarily infeasible, as it is also logistically unsupportable.116

197

12 FROM THE BAGHDAD PACT TO CENTO

The Military are reluctant [to send Marines into the Lebanon] . . . all they think about is dropping nuclear bombs and they don’t like it when we get off that. (John Foster Dulles, July 1958)1

Initial reactions to the military coup in Iraq: July 1958 On 14 July 1958, an Iraqi regiment under the command of Brigadier General Abdul Karim Qasim, successfully executed a well-planned military coup against the Hashemite regime in Baghdad. In the ensuing massacre, most of the Royal Family and Nuri Said himself were slain. A few days later Iraq was proclaimed a Republic. The coup marked the end of the personal feud between Nuri Said and Colonel Nasser. But the rivalry between Baghdad and Cairo for hegemony over the Arab world would remain a dominant theme in Arab politics for many years to come.2 The Americans believed that the Soviet Union was behind it all, with Colonel Nasser playing in the role of their ‘willing puppet’. Initial American Intelligence reports alluded to ‘many leftists and Nasserites’ in Qasim’s new administration.3 On 24 July, in his best Cold War warrior style, Dulles told a meeting of the National Security Council (NSC) that ‘the real authority behind the Government of Iraq was being exercised by Nasser, and behind Nasser, by the USSR’.4 Both the UK and the US feared that the coup in Baghdad was the opening gambit in a more extensive conspiracy to destabilize the entire Middle East. Alan Dulles, the CIA Director, briefed a meeting of Congressional leaders convened at the White House on the day of the coup in Baghdad. He warned that: ‘If the Iraq coup succeeds it seems almost inevitable that it will set up a chain reaction which will doom the pro-West Governments of Lebanon and Jordan and Saudi Arabia, and raise grave problems for Turkey and Iran.’5 On Nasser’s instructions, Syria, united with Egypt in the UAR since the previous January, closed its border with Jordan. Saudi Arabia, afraid of antagonizing Nasser, did likewise. As one authority on Egypt has noted, in July 1958, with the

198

F RO M T H E BAG H DA D PAC T TO C E N TO

Lebanon also in the throes of a civil war – in which the Muslim side supported and looked for support to the UAR – ‘it was difficult not to believe that Nasser’s Arab policy and Egypt’s brand of Arab nationalism were close to a historic triumph’.6 At a meeting convened at the White House on the same day as the coup in Baghdad, senior officials of the administration considered responding positively to appeals by the Lebanon and Jordan for American and British military support. Eisenhower even mused that ‘the most strategic move would be to attack Cairo’, but added immediately that of course, this could not be done! Dulles clearly regarded the current crisis as a test of wills between the two Superpowers. Dulles stated that it was unclear how the Soviets would react to any Allied military intervention in the Middle East, but it would depend ‘upon what they judge to be the balance of power for a general war’. He recommended standing up to the Soviet challenge now, rather than waiting for three to four years to do so. He reasoned: At the present time the Soviets do not have long-range missiles, at least in any quantity. Nor do they have a substantial long-range air capability. If we do not accept the risk now, they will decide that we will never accept the risk and will push harder than ever, and border countries will submit to them.7 Once the dust had settled a little, the British JPS assessed the strategic consequences of Brigadier Qasim taking Iraq into the Soviet camp: If control in Iraq passed to the Soviet Union, the NATO flank held by Turkey would in effect be turned, Russia for the first time would have a foothold in the Persian Gulf and the heart of Middle East oil, and Communist subversion throughout the Middle East would be greatly facilitated.8 On 14 July, with the first news of the military coup in Baghdad, the British rushed reinforcements by sea to the Persian Gulf. The Turks were also pressing for a military operation to occupy Iraq, and had to be cooled off by both the UK and the US.9 Three days later, on 17 July, the heads of state of Turkey, Iran and Pakistan sent a joint telegram to Washington and London, expressing their deep concern over ‘the possibility of landings in Iraq, Syria and even Jordan’, and urged the US to take ‘equally appropriate . . . action in these countries’.10 The UK and the US responded with military operations – not in Iraq or in Kuwait – but in Jordan and the Lebanon, two of the sole, vulnerable ‘remaining pro-West outposts in the region’.11 It is not be my purpose to elaborate here upon the military aspects of these operations.12 A very brief résumé will suffice here. In the Lebanon, widespread civil strife had disrupted the country since the previous May. It was orchestrated by a virulent nationalist opposition to Camille Chamoun’s pro-Western regime, armed by Egypt and inspired by Nasserism. On the day of the coup in Baghdad, Chamoun appealed to the West to save his 199


regime. After urgent appeals by MacMillan to Washington, Eisenhower agreed to dispatch 3,500 American troops to the Lebanon. They went ashore on the beaches of Beirut on 15 July. King Husain of Jordan initially sought Anglo-American support for a military operation against Baghdad. But within two days he had lost his nerve. On 16 July he requested urgent military intervention by the West, in order to save his throne. The British, with American approval, began flying troops in to Amman on the next day. American naval aircraft flew in fuel supplies.13 At the end of July 1958, Dulles briefed the NSC on the success of the military operations in the Middle East, and conjectured on their Cold War significance: The presence of U.K. and U.S. forces in Lebanon and Jordan has caused consternation in the Kremlin, as indicative of the fact that we are prepared to take strong action in the area . . . If the USSR could be persuaded that Nasser’s policies will encounter opposition which may lead to war, it will draw back because it does not want war now.14 History has returned a mixed verdict on the operations, which proved to have had more of a symbolic than military significance: It soon turned out that neither [Allied] force had any threat to face and they were equally rapidly withdrawn. It was all a slightly ludicrous episode, but not without some local stabilising influence. It also strengthened Britain’s position in the whole area by demonstrating that the UK and the USA, after their bitter quarrels over the Suez affair, had returned to a policy of cooperation.15 But of course, this is to take advantage of the wisdom that comes with hindsight. At the time, the degree of resistance could not have been known in advance. The Allies had not really known what to make of the new military regime in Baghdad. Brigadier Qasim let it be known immediately that his administration intended to honour Iraq’s existing commitments. But the Allies inclined to discount his professions of good will as purely a matter of form, in order to secure Western recognition for his regime, and to ensure the continued flow of sorelyneeded dollars from the oil sold by Iraq to the West.16 The Allies were convinced that Iraq would eventually leave the Pact. Anti-Western sentiment in Baghdad was rife. During the course of the coup, the British embassy in Baghdad had been burned down and looted. Highly sensitive documents associated with the Pact had been seized. The new regime began publishing the material, to the grave embarrassment of all members of the Pact. The Allies feared that all the strategic plans and studies drawn up by the Pact’s committees had been scrutinized by ‘elements ill-disposed towards the West’. The consequent damage resulting from the compromise of secret Intelligence data and sources was incalculable.17 But in mid-July 1958, the UK was concerned above all to ensure the continued, unhindered flow of oil from the Persian Gulf to the UK and to Europe. She feared 200


Basra

Khorramshahr

IRAN

Abadan

IRAQ IRAQ

KUWAIT KUWAIT (AL KUWAYT)

PERSIAN

Al Ahmaoi Ahmadi GULF

KUWAIT 1: 2 000 000 0 0

10 20 Miles 10 20 Kilometres

SAUDIARABIA ARABIA SAUDI

Map 3 The Persian Gulf: Kuwait and the Al-Ahmadi Oil Complex.

that the military junta in Baghdad might exercise Iraq’s historical claim to Kuwait and occupy its territory. The oil crisis that had resulted from the closure of the Suez Canal in 1956 had heightened British concerns about their oil concessions in the Middle East. Kuwait now became not only the UK’s principal source of oil, but also the source of considerable revenue for the British Treasury. The vaults of the COS already contained a contingency plan (JOI 36) for a ‘rapid intervention by United Kingdom forces in Kuwait to protect United Kingdom oil interests’. A force of three battalions was considered sufficient to take and secure the major Al Ahmadi oil-producing complex near to Kuwait town, 201


the focus of British attentions. The operation would begin with the occupation of Bahrein by two infantry battalions. Bahrein would then serve as a base from which to conquer Qatar. Next, naval warships would make a display of force off Kuwait. One airborne battalion would then be parachuted in to seize the Al Ahmadi airfield, just south of Al Ahmadi town, while naval landing parties would secure the port area of the town. An additional two battalions would then be airlifted in, to secure the Al Ahmadi petroleum-producing complex, and the Political Agency in Kuwait town.18 On 14 July, the day of the military coup in Baghdad, JOI 36 was brought out of mothballs, revised slightly by the planners, and brought to the COS for their approval on the next day. It would serve as the basis for an emergency military operation in the Gulf, if the Cabinet so decided. The only ‘revision’ was that the use of the parachute battalion was now made contingent upon whether the Kuwaiti armed forces cooperated or not. The planners estimated that in the event of a ‘dire emergency’, the parachute battalion could be dropped in Kuwait by D-Day ⫹ 3, followed by a second battalion, transported by air, on D-Day ⫹ 6.19 But after Suez, the British knew better than to take any military action in the Middle East without the prior approval of the Americans. By 1958, the Americans had more empathy for the British position. In January of that year, an NSC report on the long-range future policy of the US towards the Middle East reflected a momentous change from the administration’s treatment of the UK and France in 1956. Until the Suez Crisis, the Eisenhower administration had believed that it could somehow escape the taint of colonialism that attached to its allies in Europe. This had led to an isolationism and alienation that had at times bordered on hostility. But by 1958, the administration had given up all hope of wooing Nasser into the Western fold, and reconciled itself to the need for solidarity with her NATO allies during the Cold War, and to the price to be paid: ‘The continuing and necessary association of the United States in the Western European Alliance makes it impossible for us to avoid some identification with the powers which formerly had, and still have, “colonial” interests in the area.’20 This meant supporting her Allies’ vital economic and financial interests in the Middle East. These were contingent upon the undisturbed flow of oil from that region to Europe. In the case of the UK, the very fabric of her economy now rested upon her huge sterling investments in the installations that pumped and refined the oil of the Persian Gulf states. The UK was able to buy higher-grade oil from this region at cheaper prices than elsewhere, to pay for it in sterling (rather than in scarce American dollars), and to employ the profits on its investments as a vital buttress for its currency. By 1958, the Eisenhower administration understood the UK’s conviction that her international posture and her economic viability depended upon her continued hegemony in the Persian Gulf.21 In fact, the Atlantic Allies shared a common interest in the oil deposits of the Middle East. The US itself, with its own considerable interests in Saudi Arabia, could not afford to remain indifferent to any radical regime changes in the Persian Gulf. On 21 July 1958, on the eve of Dulles’s departure for London, 202


Eisenhower conveyed to Harold MacMillan his determination to hold on to the Gulf area: Whatever happens in Iraq and other parts of the area, we must, I think, not only try to bolster up both the loyalties and the military strength of both Lebanon and Jordan, we must also, and this seems to be even more important, see that the Persian Gulf area stays with the Western orbit. The Kuwait-Dharan-Abadan areas become extremely important and Turkey and Iran have become more important.22 (my emphasis) Selwyn Lloyd, the British Foreign Secretary, rushed to Washington for urgent consultations. He remained in the American capital from 17–21 July. He conferred with Dulles during the evening of 19 July, in a meeting that carried on into the early hours of the next morning. Lloyd told his American counterpart that the British were anxious lest a sudden coup in Kuwait should take them unawares, as had happened in Iraq. British forces were now on the high seas, sailing to the Gulf, and the Cabinet would have to decide within two to three days whether to occupy Kuwait, even against the wishes of its ruling family. Lloyd himself felt that there were sufficient differences between the position in Kuwait and that in Iraq to justify waiting, and relying on their ability to move forces quickly enough into Kuwait in case of trouble. Both Ministers agreed on the need to hold on to the oil-producing areas of the Gulf, and decided that each should commission urgent studies of their military capabilities, and the desirability of military intervention.23 Eisenhower had already initiated a round of urgent consultations with his most senior officials. CIA Director Allen Dulles was hawkish, pressing for a preemptive military operation in the Gulf. On 16 July, he argued the case for moving American forces to the Gulf and occupying Kuwait in a joint military operation with the British. At a key, top-level conference held on 20 July, attended by Eisenhower, both the Dulles brothers and senior officials of the administration, the Director advised those present that the Kuwaiti ruler was at that moment in Syria, from where he might at any moment announce the accession of his country to the UAR. He warned that if they did not move in at once they would probably lose Kuwait – where the British had ‘nothing’.24 But both Eisenhower and Secretary Dulles vetoed all ideas of supporting ‘a military effort to retake Iraq’. Secretary Dulles agreed that they would have to ‘take a strong line on holding the Persian Gulf’, but one short of using force. He advised the NSC that the current British position was ‘to go in if the area is attacked from outside or if invited in’. Eisenhower reaffirmed that they would not abandon the area, but insisted that the use of force now would outrage the Arabs. He made the ambiguous suggestion that their best chance might be ‘to make a deal with Iraq and Kuwait’.25 In the meantime, the JCS decided to prepare plans for a joint Anglo-American military operation to secure the important oil-producing regions of northern Iraq. 203


On 18 July, they directed the Deputy Director for Strategic Plans, together with the chairman of the Joint Middle East Planning Group (JMEPG), to prepare, as a matter of high priority, an outline plan covering a U.S. – British occupation of Iraq, with and without Turkish assistance from the North into the Mosul and Kirkuk area, with the main objective of controlling Iraqi oil.26 Further consultations at the State Department on 20 July led to a proposal to support the ‘special British position in the Persian Gulf’, by increasing the American military presence in the region (by one reinforced Marine battalion, which could reach the Gulf within two or three weeks). The US would inform the UK that for the present, they had no intention of securing their own interests in Saudi Arabia by occupying the Dhaharan area, and would counsel them against any military occupation of Kuwait, unless invited to do so by its Ruler, or unless ‘an emergency situation had already been created by an Iraq-type coup in Kuwait town or by a serious deterioration of public security’.27 For the present, the British were to be advised to hold their forces on standby in the region, presumably in Bahrein, where they might be ready to take over Kuwait or Qatar within 36 hours – should the security situation in either place deteriorate unpredictably.28 By 24 July, Dulles was able to report to a key meeting of the NSC that the situation in Iraq appeared to have returned to normal. However, he regarded Qasim’s ostensibly pro-Western orientation as a ‘façade’. The discussion focused next on the potential Iraqi threat to Kuwait, and the significance of Kuwait’s oil production for the British economy.29 In early August, the British Foreign Office asked for their planners’ appreciation of the probability of Iraq taking military action against Kuwait. The Joint Intelligence Committee (JIC) estimated that whereas Iraq would certainly retain her territorial claims to Kuwait, her armed forces would be fully occupied for at least the next six months in maintaining internal order inside Iraq itself. There was ‘virtually no possibility of Iraq taking military action against Kuwait within the next six months’.30 The JIC estimated that even if Iraq did decide at some future date to attack Kuwait, it would do so only with the support of the UAR. The UAR would probably encourage Iraq to extend its operations to the town of Kuwait and the oilfields in its vicinity. But the JIC estimated that Iraq would probably confine its claims to some border adjustments.31 British planners did not reconcile themselves easily to the decision not to occupy Kuwait in the summer of 1958. They were pre-occupied with the need to demonstrate the UK’s readiness and ability to use force to protect the nation’s vital oil interests in the Persian Gulf. In a paper written six months after the military coup in Baghdad, they expressed concern at ‘the cumulative effect of single decisions not to use force’: The grave inherent danger is that one, or a series of perfectly logical decisions not to use force may well lead to an illogical situation in which 204


we are no longer free to act in the face of the complete denial of oil. Alternatively, such a process could lead to a situation in which we have to fight in the wrong place at the wrong time.32 However, Brigadier Qasim’s regime, far from adhering to the Nasserist antiWestern camp, soon demonstrated its implacable hostility to Egypt, not least because Nasser had demanded a share of Iraq’s oil revenues.33 Nonetheless, the dubious nature of the new regime in Baghdad, and the uncertain orientation of its future foreign policy, all militated against leaving the Pact’s major institutions in Baghdad, where they had been located since the Pact’s formal establishment in November 1955. This required the removal from Baghdad of what was arguably the most important institution of the Pact, its Combined Military Planning Staff (CMPS). The work of the committee hardly missed a beat after the effective secession of Iraq. The Turks put in a special plea that the committee’s headquarters be transferred to Ankara (a Turkish General, Akalin, was Director of the CMPS). Selwyn Lloyd suggested initially that after Iraq’s departure from the Pact, its natural, geographical, headquarters would be Teheran. But the special pleadings of the Turks, by far the strongest military power along the Northern Tier, were acceded to. The committee’s first meeting to be held after the Baghdad coup took place in the Turkish capital, from 3–7 November 1958. Still uncertain of the future political orientation of the new regime in Baghdad, the JCS suggested that they reassure Brigadier Qasim that the move from Baghdad to Ankara was not necessarily final, and that the CMPS headquarters might be transferred back to Baghdad as soon as Iraq was ‘prepared to recommence active participation in Pact affairs’.34 The various studies, and the debates generated by the CMPS continued to provide material for exhaustive staff studies in both London and Washington.35 The regime change in Baghdad also required the removal from Baghdad of the Pact’s modest Nuclear Centre, a British sponsored and financed project, which had been opened formally in the Iraqi capital in March 1957 (the opening had been delayed for three months, due to the unwillingness of the Iraqi Government to associate itself overtly with the UK during the aftermath of Suez). The goal of the centre was to provide training in the peaceful uses of atomic energy. The British provided the specialist teaching staff, and Sir John Cockcroft, Director of the Harwell Energy Research Establishment, was appointed to be Chairman of the Baghdad Nuclear Centre’s Scientific Council. Two members from each of the indigenous Baghdad Pact countries were appointed to staff the Baghdad Centre (alongside the British), and were sent for training at the Isotope School at Harwell, in the UK. The first isotope course held there for regional staff took place in May 1956, after which its members received a further six-months training in the UK, some at Harwell and some at hospitals and research institutions around the country. The first course at the Baghdad Centre itself, lasting for six weeks, was conducted from April to May 1957. It was attended by 25 students, 5 from each of the regional Pact members.36 205


At the time of Brigadier Qasim’s coup, the UK had under consideration a proposal for providing the centre with its own nuclear research reactor. Following the regime change in Baghdad, there ensued considerable competition between Turkey and Pakistan for the transfer of the Nuclear Centre to their territory. Finally, a meeting of the Pact’s Ministerial Council, held in Karachi in January 1959, decided to move the Centre to Teheran.37

The burgeoning American commitment to the Pact The major part of the key NSC discussion on 24 July 1958 was dominated by Secretary Dulles. The meeting focused on the ramifications of the military coup in Iraq for the future of the Baghdad Pact. This involved reconsideration by the US of the perennial question of her adherence to the Pact. With the impending departure of Iraq, even Dulles was ready to give positive consideration to joining what was left of the Pact. He had been well briefed by his officials prior to the meeting, and it was their argumentation that he employed at the NSC. On 18 July, just four days after the coup in Baghdad, two departmental memoranda, one from the European desk, and another from NEA (whose constituency had now been expanded to include South Asia), both recommended American adherence to the Pact, as ‘a useful political and psychological move’. Their recommendations were both predicated upon the assumption that Iraq would leave the Pact. Foy Kohler, of the European section, suggested that the US might now join the Pact even if Iraq did not take the formal step of leaving it. He dismissed the bogey of a hostile Soviet reaction, a key consideration that had until now given cause for hesitation: ‘We do not believe that US adherence would introduce any new factors into our relations with the Soviet Union. We are in fact already fully committed in their eyes to the Middle East.’38 NEA advised that without Iraq, the Pact would be more consistent with their own original Northern-Tier concept. The department’s major reservation was that the Pact’s members had exploited it too often for the pursuit of their own national interests, rather than in the wider struggle against communism – ‘Pakistan vs. India, Iraq vs. Israel, Turkey vs. Greece’. However, with Iraq likely to leave the Pact, the primary reason for their refusal to join it until now would disappear. The loss of Iraq was not in itself thought to be consequential to the future well-being of the Pact. However, the fall of the pro-Western regime in Iraq had raised the spectre for the other regional members of ‘disaffection and neutralism in their rear’. The department’s only remaining caveat was whether the US could join the Pact ‘without estranging Greece from the US and the West generally’.39 A brief prepared for Dulles on the day before the crucial meeting of the NSC, by William Rountree, the Assistant Secretary of State in charge of NEA, summarized the Department’s position. The consensus was that ‘the advantages of the US now joining the Pact would outweigh the disadvantages’. He advised that the anticipated departure of Iraq would largely remove their previous reasons for not joining (i.e. the fact that the Senate was unlikely to approve American 206


adherence to any pact that included an Arab state, without due ‘compensation’ for Israel).40 However, on the very morning of the NSC meeting, Dulles’s special assistant, Joseph N. Greene, Jr. injected a new perspective. He suggested that what they really needed was ‘an entirely new pact, with a new name’. This was one of the first germinations of the idea of changing the name of the Baghdad Pact to the Central Treaty Organization (CENTO).41 At the 24 July meeting of the NSC, Dulles congratulated himself on having been right in his castigation of British behaviour in the Middle East – they had spoiled his original Northern Tier concept by including Iraq. Indeed, he now adduced the novel hypothesis that it was Iraq’s very membership of the Pact that had brought down the Hashemite regime. Dulles now permitted himself to castigate Nuri Said in a way that he had never done while the Iraqi leader had been alive. He recalled that Nuri had complicated matters for the US by always insisting ‘that the Pact must be anti-Israel as an offset to the unpopularity of the Pact in Iraq’. However, when he waxed euphoric about the benefits of Iraq’s impending exit, George Allen, Director of the US Information Agency, pointed out that even without Iraq, the Pact would still be regarded by the Arabs as an instrument of Western Imperialism, and they would continue to do so for so long as the UK remained a member.42 In mid-July 1958, while Foreign Minister Lloyd and his entourage were still in Washington, the British Foreign Office received an urgent appeal from the Prime Ministers of Iran, Pakistan and Turkey, who were convened in Ankara. They urged the UK and the US to convene a special meeting of the Pact’s Ministerial Council, ‘at the highest level as soon as possible’. The heads of state of the three countries intended coming in person, and they urged that Dulles himself also participate in order to boost morale, especially that of Turkey. They suggested London as the venue for the meeting, but expressed their readiness to accommodate themselves to Dulles’s convenience.43 Washington responded positively. The NSC decided that Dulles should fly to London for an extraordinary session of the Baghdad Pact Council of Ministers (without Iraqi participation). The Council was to meet four days later, on 28 July. Dulles arrived in London one day earlier, for prior consultations with the heads of the British government.44 On 27 July, the day he arrived in London, Dulles held a two-hour long meeting at 10 Downing Street with MacMillan, Lloyd and senior officials from both sides. The discussion focused on the meeting of the Pact’s Ministerial Council scheduled for the next day. Both sides took it for granted that Iraq would secede from the Pact, leaving only the non-Arab Moslem states. Even if Iraq did remain inside the Pact the Allies would no longer be able to depend on the loyalty of the new regime. However, no attempt would be made to drive her out. Dulles volunteered that there ‘would be a greater possibility of the United States becoming a formal member of the Pact if Iraq were out of it’. In the meantime, he saw no reason why Iraq’s departure should inhibit the ongoing work of the Pact’s Military and Economic Committees.45 207


MacMillan seized upon what he perceived to be a new policy departure on Dulles’s part. He agreed that they might now make a fresh start and form a new alliance, perhaps renaming the Pact ‘the northern tier’. Dulles did not rule out these options, but replied that they would have to be given due consideration. However, later on in the meeting he mused that they might allow the Pact ‘to wither on the vine’, and ‘start something new’. The Pact might be allowed to continue to exist in theory, but not in practice.46 Dulles consulted the same day by transatlantic telephone with Eisenhower (in Washington). The President poured cold water on the idea of ‘finding another name and a new form’ for the Pact. He instructed Dulles: We should listen and discuss but not now make decisions. Our Mid-East friends are currently tense and fearful, thus tending to make them more emotional than thoughtful . . . long-range planning should ordinarily be agreed on the basis of calm study and reflection. We of course must be loyal and friendly but we need not be in a hurry to exchange marriage vows.47 At the conclusion of the Downing Street meeting on 27 July, Dulles suggested a joint Allied initiative at the meeting of the Pact’s Council the next day. Given that the ‘need for which the Pact had been created still existed and so did the purpose of the countries concerned to maintain their collective security’, Dulles proposed that for the interim, they should issue a joint declaration that would underwrite ‘the integrity and independence of the Baghdad Pact countries’.48 The British side agreed with alacrity, appreciating that for the present, a declaration of this sort was the nearest that they were going to get to actual American adherence to the Pact. However, the first draft of the Declaration did not satisfy the Moslem members of the Pact. During the meeting of the Pact’s Council the next day, Dulles was constrained to telephone again to Eisenhower, to obtain his approval for a stronger formulation.49 He told Eisenhower that the Pact countries were again pleading for the US to join the Pact, and that he had duly explained that it was not yet possible for them to do so. However, he felt that the US could not simply reject their pleas out of hand, and urged that it was ‘absolutely necessary that we give some special reassurance to our support for Iran, Turkey and Pakistan’.50 Dulles promised Eisenhower that the proposed declaration would be within the constitutional limits permitted by his Middle East Doctrine. He did not therefore anticipate any problems with Congress. The declaration would provide that before any military aid could be given to any of the countries concerned, special bilateral agreements would have to be concluded with them, in accordance with the first article of the Doctrine. And finally, Dulles reassured the President that the declaration would apply only to those states taking part in the London meeting – not to Iraq. Eisenhower gave his consent.51 The relevant part of the declaration, issued 208


on the same day, 28 July 1958, read: The United States, in the interest of world peace, and pursuant to existing Congressional authorization, agrees to cooperate with the nations making the Declaration for their security and defense, and will promptly enter into agreements designed to give effect to this cooperation.52 Almost inevitably, a dispute arose between the departments of defense and state about the extent to which the new declaration committed the US to the Baghdad Pact. The Defense Department representative at the London meeting, General Lyman L. Lemnitzer, was ‘deeply disturbed’ upon his return to Washington to find that senior State Department officials were claiming that the US had not undertaken any further commitments to the Pact, not even by implication. This, as Lemnitzer pointed out, was in some conflict with the views of Neil H. McElroy, the Secretary of Defense, who had stated at a press conference on the day that the declaration was published: ‘There has been born here today something that in a way you might say is a slight reshaping of the Pact, and to that new association we are full partners.’53 In effect, as the State Department conceded restrospectively, the 1958 declaration had all but formalized American relations with the members of the Pact, committing the US to ‘the same obligations which they had assumed among themselves in Article I of the Baghdad Pact’.54 The issue of future Allied military coordination in the Middle East was also high on the agenda during Dulles’s July visit to London. He agreed to a British proposal to begin joint military planning, especially with respect to the Persian Gulf. The focus would be on the protection of their respective oil interests, in Kuwait and in Saudi Arabia.55 Further discussions in London and in Washington in August 1958 led to an agreement to carry out a combined strategic study on the Middle East and ‘contingency plans to accompany it’. However, the Americans insisted that there should be no revival of the joint planning that had characterized World War Two, and no ‘political or military commitment on either side’. The planners were directed to coordinate the existing unilateral planning of each side, in order ‘to produce outline plans and to determine force requirements’ for any situation that might materialize.56 A ‘U.S.–U.K. Planning Group’ was established. By June 1959, following a series of meetings in London, the Group had completed staff studies on the Persian Gulf, the Sudan, Libya, Iran, Jordan and Kuwait. By this date all these studies had either been approved by the British and American Chiefs, or were in various stages of review.57 The British remained preoccupied with the danger of Iraq invading Kuwait, and at the end of August 1959 they asked the Americans to join them in drafting a ‘general military review of possible joint operations in the Middle East, with special reference to Iraq’. However, the Americans characteristically resisted the British overture. The British agreed to the American proposal that each side 209


would first prepare ‘independent national plans’, after which they would compare results, and modify their national plans if necessary.58

The nuclear deterrent/shield As noted already, the Pact was now regarded primarily as an instrument for the preservation of the West’s economic interests in the Middle East during the Cold War. British planners went so far as to assert that: ‘The United Kingdom from the start has viewed the military affairs and organization of the Pact rather as a framework for its political aims than as a serious military undertaking.’59 But this did not mean that the UK had downgraded the strategic importance of the Northern Tier in the event of a future global conflict with the Soviet Union. In August 1958, the planners insisted: With the possible defection of Iraq, although the geographical ‘heart’ may seem to have been removed from the Pact, there is nevertheless every reason to regard the 3,000 mile ‘frontier’ of the countries remaining as suitable for the same deterrent/shield concept as already exists in NATO.60 The Americans agreed. The State Department briefed American missions overseas that the meeting of the Pact Prime Ministers in London at the end of July 1958 had demonstrated conclusively that the Pact could and would continue to ‘pursue [the] objective of deterring or combating possible aggression, direct or indirect, regardless of Iraqi participation’.61 The assumption that Iraq would either leave the Pact or that, even if she remained, there could be ‘no military planning with Iraq at the table’ had surprisingly little effect upon the Allies’ strategic planning for the Middle East, or the Pact’s military viability.62 Nor were the Moslem members of the Pact particularly distressed by the expected departure of Iraq. In any case, as will be recalled from the last chapter, the Iraqis had been most reticent about allowing Turkish troops onto Iraqi soil, not even in transit. The other members of the Pact were quite aware that Hashemite Iraq had not been willing to go to the aid of its allies. Turkey was covered already by NATO. Indeed, they were all in the Pact for only so long as they believed it to be in their own national interest.63 The only notable effect of Iraq’s departure was to reduce the logistic depth of the Pact theatre – ‘the area available for the deployment of air forces and land force reserves’. By October 1958, making a virtue out of necessity, British planners concluded that the defence of the Pact’s fronts would no longer require the immediate movement of forces or supplies through Iraq on D-Day. The mission of the Pact’s indigenous forces remained ‘to hold an enemy advance until the nuclear exchange has determined the future course of the war’.64 The 1956 plan to despatch units of British engineers on D-Day to carry out demolitions at the strategic passes of the Zagros had apparently been withdrawn. 210


Since the passage of the Eisenhower Doctrine, the US had in effect assumed financial responsibility for building up the Baghdad Pact. In contrast to the UK, the JCS had in 1957 recommended the investment of both men and equipment in the various Pact theatres, especially in Iran. As noted in the previous chapter, they had espoused the Elburz forward concept, a strategy involving huge expenditures. The differences in the strategic concepts now adopted by the Allies obviously reflected the respective economic and military strengths of the junior and senior partners. The UK continued to rule out for the foreseeable future the possibility of either a Soviet- or a Chinese-initiated armed aggression against any member of the Baghdad Pact. British Intelligence concluded that for the near future the Soviets would rely on political and economic penetration. The main threat to the Pact would be that of “internal political disruption.” In August 1959, the COS limited their military aspirations for the Pact to deterring a direct Soviet aggression against the Middle East, and if that failed, to holding up the Soviet offensive, in order ‘to secure the right flank of NATO’.65 American strategy in the Middle East, approved by the President in January 1958, shared the British goal of containing and reducing Soviet influence in the region. But their military objectives were much wider ranging, similar in fact to those reached by the British during the early1950s: ‘To secure the NATO right flank, air base sites, the Turkish Straits, the Eastern Mediterranean, the Cairo–Suez–Aden area, and the Persian Gulf and contiguous oil-bearing areas.’66 However, the central goal of both of the Allies’ strategy for the Middle East and East Asian theatres remained the need to convince the Pact’s indigenous members that ‘the nuclear deterrent principle can apply to their countries no less than in the NATO area’. After all, the Soviets’ overwhelming conventional superiority in Europe had compelled NATO also to rely on what had become known as the nuclear ‘deterrent/shield’. The Moslem members of the Pact would be told that in the event of war, full use would be made of the strategic air offensive against the Soviet homeland, and of tactical nuclear weapons in the Middle East campaign, in order to reduce the Soviets’ conventional superiority to ‘manageable proportions’. Making a virtue of necessity, British planners now insisted that the nuclear deterrent/shield concept was the only type of defence suitable for the Northern Tier’s extended, 3,000-mile front. No conventional forces, however large, would ever be capable of preventing Soviet aggression.67 British planners suggested that the panacea to the Pact’s military vulnerability would be to arrive at a formula of mutual guarantees between the Moslem members of the Pact, and a nuclear guarantee between them and the Allies: When members of the Pact agree that they will take concerted action in the event of Soviet aggression against any one or more members, the United Kingdom and the USA should make it clear that such a declaration would be backed by their nuclear power.68 211


However, this entire conception rested on a basically false premise, one that was dismissed out of hand by the COS, when they considered the planner’s paper: ‘It was unrealistic to imagine that the Government of the United Kingdom would ever actually implement the nuclear deterrent in support of the Baghdad Pact.’69 In other words, as the JPS were forced to concede, the UK had no intention of launching ‘a strategic nuclear attack against the USSR in support of the Baghdad Pact in any condition short of global war’.70 Nevertheless, this did not mean that the UK had any intention of abdicating its position at the Persian Gulf. The façade was to be maintained. The COS conceded that faute de mieux, there was no alternative but ‘to try to convince the regional members of the effectiveness of the nuclear deterrent’.71 Unfortunately, the Moslem members of the Pact refused to be convinced, perhaps due to fears that if they did their demands for conventional military aid would go unrequited.72 Or perhaps they saw through Western subterfuge. There is a further irony in the British planners’ argument, in view of the UK’s own apprehensions about whether the USA would come to its aid if the Soviets restricted their offensive to Europe. The American nuclear posture toward the Middle East theatre was also ambiguous. On the one hand, they too, like the British, did not earmark any nuclear-enabled forces as available for the defence of the Middle East on D-day. Nonetheless, at the meeting of the Pact’s Ministerial Council in Ankara in January 1958, the American representatives had reassured the Moslem members that in the event of war, they would be able to ‘rely on the strategic retaliatory power of the United States’.73 Eventually, in June 1958 (one month before the military coup in Baghdad), JCS plans did provide that the following nuclear-enabled ground forces should be on hand in the Middle East, prior to D-day: ‘Nuclear demolition teams, and Teams for firing nuclear munitions in the artillery of Iran, Iraq and Pakistan’.74

CENTO As noted already, the London ‘summit’ at the end of July 1958, together with the American public commitment to the Baghdad Pact, had done much to calm the apprehensions of the Moslem members of the Pact following the demise of the Hashemite dynasty and of Nuri Said’s regime. As a concomitant to the London Declaration, the US had agreed also to conclude separate bilateral agreements with Turkey, Iran and Pakistan. The US had already been giving regular military aid on a bilateral basis to Iran, Iraq, Pakistan and Turkey, well before the formation of the Baghdad Pact, under the Military Assistance Program (MAP). The bilateral agreements negotiated after the crises of summer 1958 were therefore little more than psychological sops, which formalized already-existing, albeit informal arrangements. The Congress was briefed regularly during the several months of negotiations that preceded the conclusion of the bilaterals, and raised no significant dissension or 212


opposition. In February 1959, Under Secretary of State Christian Herter, who took over from Dulles on 21 April 1959, urged Eisenhower that, failure to proceed with signature of these agreements would . . . be taken as a sign of weakness on the part of the United States and/or the Baghdad Pact countries, and this would be a major victory for Soviet policy in the Near East.75 The agreements were signed on 5 March 1959, at Ankara. Officials representing the governments of the US and the three Moslem members of the Pact signed identical documents, which promised American support for ‘the security and defense of the members of the Baghdad Pact’. On 24 March, Iraq formally withdrew from the Baghdad Pact. This removed the last barrier to changing its name, and on 21 August 1959 it was redesignated the Central Treaty Organization (CENTO). In the State Department’s view, this reduced even further the need for the US to adhere formally to the Pact.76 However, true to form, the Defense Department, under pressure from the JCS, pressed for official American adherence to the new Pact (Organization), and for their staff officers to lead a ‘CENTO command structure’. Equally predictably, the State Department vetoed any formal American association with CENTO, this time due to the ‘political risks involved’.77 By 1960, the British were focused on the oil-bearing Gulf States, Kuwait in particular. The US was preoccupied more than ever with Iran, which had become the focal point of American strategic interests in the now-unified Middle East and South-East Asia theatre. In November 1960, the JCS prepared a long memorandum on ‘the military importance of CENTO to the national security of the United States’. They asserted that American strategic interests in the CENTO theatre derived from its geographical location as ‘a land barrier to Soviet expansion into the Middle East and Africa, and a barrier to Soviet efforts to reach the warm seas. It also covers the right flank of NATO’.78 The Middle East, continued the JCS, constituted ‘a focal area for land, sea, and air communications connecting three continents’. Further, the oil reserves of the region would for the foreseeable future remain of vital significance to their European Allies. Whereas American strategists were focused on Iran’s strategic assets, at the same time they considered it to be the weak link in CENTO, ‘both politically and militarily’. Iran was ‘the soft spot in the CENTO defense line and one of the soft spots in the Free World’s collective security system surrounding the periphery of the Soviet bloc.79 The JCS believed that the Soviets had not abandoned their traditional ambitions to secure an outlet to the warm waters of the Persian Gulf; and Iran, with its long borders with the USSR, offered the easiest route to the Gulf. Iran also had common borders with two ‘potential Soviet accomplices’ – Afghanistan and Iraq. Iran was therefore regarded by the JCS as the lynchpin of the entire ‘Free World collective security system . . . the link between NATO and CENTO, as the heart of SEATO, and as a specific barrier to Soviet expansionism in such an important region’.80 213


Since the summer of 1959, the JCS had been advocating that the US should modernize and improve the air defence systems of Iran and Pakistan, by sending to both countries a limited number of Hawk and Sidewinder missiles. In November 1960, they reiterated their recommendation, and urged that they also develop plans for the ‘tactical nuclear support of CENTO’.81 The debate between the Defense and State Departments about the US joining CENTO was in effect as old as the Baghdad Pact itself. It was resolved at a highlevel meeting between the JCS and State Department officials on 11 March 1960. General George H. Decker, Vice Chief of Staff, US Army, asked what would be the ‘political’ effect upon the Middle East if the US joined CENTO as a full member? Livingston T. Merchant, the Under Secretary of State for Political Affairs, conjectured: ‘It was a combination of “unfulfillable expectations,” a possible diminution of NATO, false deductions which other Arab nations and the Soviet Union would draw, and probable increased Soviet pressure on Iran.’82 By 1960, American strategy had crystallized into one of informal, frequently covert support – both military and economic – to security alliances along the borders of the Soviet bloc. The implementation of this strategy during the 1960s is beyond the scope of this volume.

214

CONCLUSION

By the mid-1950s, the Middle East had become another theatre of the Cold War. The Soviets had made considerable inroads into the region. Nothing symbolized their penetration more than the arms deal made between Czechoslovakia (acting as proxy for the Soviets) and Egypt – announced by Colonel Nasser in September 1955. Worse still, in 1957, Syria appeared to be following Egypt into the Soviet camp. In May of that year, a series of Leftist, pro-Nasser, by-election victories in Syria was assessed by Western Intelligence, particularly by the Turks, as the harbinger to the inception of a communist regime. In January 1958, Syria joined Egypt to form the United Arab Republic. At the same time, Western fears of a new world conflict with the Soviet Union had abated – although by no means evaporated. The contingency of an eventual global clash, which would also involve the Middle East, remained an issue of constant concern for Allied staff planners, one that was subjected to continuous scrutiny at the highest levels of government. In August 1959, a JIC assessment of the threat over the next three to four years to what the committee still called the ‘Baghdad Pact Area’, concluded that the principal risk now was not military but ‘political and economic’. A local war between the indigenous states was ruled out, unless the unlikely occurred – that ‘the potential aggressors became much stronger militarily than the objects of their attack’. The JIC’s report, written one year after the Iraqi coup, concluded: ‘The most dangerous threat to the Baghdad Pact is that of internal political disruption. The chief internal dangers are the possibility of a revolution in Iran resulting in the departure of Iran from the Baghdad Pact.’1 In any future war, the oil resources and strategic bases of the region would present a coveted prize. The Middle East contained the bulk of the world’s proven oil reserves, and was the world’s principal oil exporter, second in production only to the United States. In 1956, Middle East oil accounted for almost one-half of the free world’s (excluding American) requirements. The ready availability of relatively cheap oil from the Middle East was vital to the economic well being of the NATO powers. Any denial of that oil to the West would cause severe economic and social dislocations.

215

CONCLUSION

In June 1956, the British Cabinet decided that any concrete threat to its oil interests in the ME would constitute a casus belli. The UK had its own special reasons for assigning the highest strategic priority to its Middle Eastern oil concessions. By the end of the decade, oil from the Middle East was not only lubricating the wheels of British industries, but revenues from the sale of Middle Eastern oil by British companies to third countries enabled the UK to balance its budget. British oil interests focused on Kuwait. In 1955, Kuwait on its own was estimated to contain some 20 percent of the world’s proved oil reserves, and was producing more than 50 percent of the combined totals produced by Saudi Arabia, Iraq and Iran. Kuwaiti oil was also the cheapest in the world to produce. In December 1959, the Director of Plans of the British JPS reaffirmed that the UK’s principal interests in the Middle East lay first in its oil resources, and second, in ‘containing Russian expansion’. These interests now outweighed her strategic interest in the Far East. During the 1960s, the British would retain two principal commitments in the region: first, north of the Air Barrier, British forces would be required ‘to strengthen CENTO by the provision of air support, including a nuclear capability, based mostly on Cyprus’, and second, south of the Air Barrier, they would be required to ‘intervene at very short notice at the head of the Persian Gulf’ to protect British oil interests, especially in Kuwait. The need to retain a capability of ‘rapid intervention in Kuwait’ (and if needed, in Iraq), was the reason why the UK determined to hold on to the base in Aden.2 During the early 1950s, the Allies had made persistent attempts to establish security systems in the Middle East, under the aegis of which they would acquire the use of strategic bases from which to halt any Soviet offensive. But in an age of de-colonization, the Arabs’ first priority was to free themselves of the shackles of colonial occupation. With the Anglo-Egyptian agreement of 1954 for the evacuation of the Suez Canal base, Allied strategy switched to the Northern Tier. The Baghdad Pact, initiated by Iraq and Turkey in February 1955, became the political expression and provided the institutional framework for the new strategy. In order to guarantee the continued enjoyment of their economic concessions in the region, the Allies believed that they had to convince the indigenous members of the Pact that the West was prepared and able to defend them against a future Soviet offensive. In order to do this, the Allies promised that in the event of a Soviet invasion, they would defend the Pact theatre with a nuclear and conventional umbrella. This guarantee was supposed to ensure that the countries of the Northern Tier would not be tempted to re-insure with the Soviets, but would prefer to remain within the Western sphere of influence. The fact that the US turned down the repeated pleas of the Pact’s members to join it was significant – but mainly for reasons of public relations and prestige. For all practical purposes, the Americans failure to join the Pact formally was irrelevant. They poured huge sums of money and military hardware into buildingup the Pact’s military infrastructures and its members’ armed forces. They were so concerned to impress the Pact’s indigenous members with their ability to 216

CONCLUSION

defend them in case of a war with the Soviets, that in 1957 they issued a rare invitation to them to witness an American nuclear test in Nevada. In 1956, the abortive Suez Operation caused the most serious crisis to date for the ‘special relationship’. However, the over-arching importance of AngloAmerican cooperation on grand strategy required that military coordination continue, even if contacts were kept well behind the scenes. Thus, notwithstanding the Eisenhower Administrations’ boycott of Eden, the Suez crisis did not affect the Americans’ decision to permit the deployment on British soil of American nuclear weapons – the outcome of discussions begun in August 1956. America’s agreement was confirmed in December 1956, while Eden was still serving as Prime Minister. Further, two of the most senior-ranking English and American officers (Air Chief Marshal Dickson and General Greunther) were deputed by their respective heads of state to discuss the situation in the Middle East – while English and French forces were still deployed in the Canal Zone. From its very inception, the Baghdad Pact was beset with political, military and parochial handicaps. Each of its members had its own agenda. Turkey tried to involve the Allies in its dispute with Greece over Cyprus and control of the Aegean Sea; Iran, in its problems with Afghanistan over the Herat River; and Pakistan in its conflict over Kashmir with India.3 In retrospect, it is a cause for some wonder that the Allies were so disillusioned with the Pact’s Moslem members and failed to understand why the latter placed their own national interests above and before the wider strategic interests of the Allies. Initially, the UK had hoped to induce other Arab States into joining the Pact – even Egypt, eventually. However, neither of the Allies foresaw the extent of Nasser’s hostile reaction to the formation of the Pact, nor his consequent rivalry with Nuri Said for the leadership of the Arab world. The first, desperate attempt of the British to induct their protégé, Jordan, was checkmated by the Egyptian leader. The Pact thus precipitated the Middle East’s own ‘Cold War’. It split the Arab world into two rival camps; one over which Nasser posed as champion of Arab independence and neutrality; and the other led by Nuri Said, whose traditional close ties with the UK made him easy bait for the Egyptian propaganda machine, which depicted him as a lackey of Western imperialism. The British invasion of Egypt in November 1956, in collusion with France and Israel, effectively shattered the UK’s position in the core states of the Arab world – Egypt, Iraq and Syria. The consequent fall of the Hashemite regime in Iraq was only a matter of time. In July 1958, the popularly acclaimed military coup in Baghdad that brought down the Hashemite monarchy marked the end of all Arab participation in a Western-sponsored security system. After a short period to allow the sediment to settle, the rump of the Baghdad Pact – the two Eastern Asian states, Iran and Pakistan, together with Turkey, changed the Pact’s name to CENTO. Such was the dissonance between its members, that it was found necessary to sanctify existing American economic and military aid programmes in separate bilateral agreements with the US. 217

CONCLUSION

Israel has figured prominently in these pages. Her territory lay across the strategic crossroads between Egypt and the Northern Tier. She also played a prominent role in the Suez War – albeit, from the Anglo-French perspective, more diplomatic than military – by providing the pretext for the their invasion. Following the Suez experience, the British strategic concept towards Israel aimed at having the best of both worlds. In their Interim Directive for Global War, written in July 1957, the COS instructed the Commanders-in-Chief, Middle East: ‘You may rely on using Israeli facilities in global war. You are not, however, to plan, covertly or openly, in conjunction with Israel in peace-time.’4 Israel’s loyalty to the West was tested successfully in July 1958, when she allowed the UK to airlift troops across her air space to Amman, in order to rescue King Hussein’s regime.5 Israel’s strategic value was demonstrated. However, this was an ephemeral convenience which did not lead to any permanent strategic ties between the Allies and Israel, as the latter would have liked. For both the UK and the US, Israel remained a spoiling element in the Arab Middle East. The traditionally pro-Arab attitude of the British Foreign Office at times crossed the line of paranoia. On occasion, Evelyn Shuckburgh succumbed to the severe stress that his responsibility for Middle Eastern affairs entailed. But he continued to exert considerable influence in the department until June 1956, and his seniors, including the Permanent Under-Secretary and the Minister himself (Harold MacMillan), usually endorsed his positions on Israel. The documents also reveal the Eisenhower Administration’s bitter resentment of Israel for having stymied Allied friendship with the Arabs, and for hindering their strategic plans for the Middle East. Eisenhower was especially furious with Israel for the role she played in the Suez War. Without the Israeli factor, the US might well have joined the Baghdad Pact. Secretary Dulles’ own views of Israel, not devoid of anti-Semitic overtones, were expressed clearly in the following speech, made before a closed meeting of the full NSC in January 1958: The State of Israel was in fact the darling of Jewry throughout the world, and world Jewry was a formidable force . . . There were certain courses of action which simply could not be followed, from the domestic political point of view. When the State of Israel had been established, both the Department of State and Department of Defense had been in agreement that the establishment of Israel . . . would inevitably lead to the situation in the Near East which now confronts us. Nevertheless, the warnings and advice . . . had been ignored. The State Department conceded that nothing short of the total destruction of Israel would satisfy the Arabs. Therefore, there was no way out of the impasse. The situation, as Dulles told the NSC, was ‘tragic and disturbing’.6 The reader of this book will perhaps sense an element of the unreal in Allied strategic planning for the Middle East. American policy has been called a ‘failure’, 218

CONCLUSION

and British tactics derided as an empty façade.7 However, as has been noted already in these pages, British strategy cannot be dismissed as simply an anachronistic clinging to colonial power. The debates at Whitehall over which departmental budget should support which items of military hardware (see chapter 9), reflect a conscious, realistic approach, and an ability to differentiate between support for military allies and the promotion of political interests. It should again be stressed that the US too, who had no colonial record in the Middle East, had no less significant long-term strategic interests in the region, and no less vital economic interests for the immediate term. The latter could not be guaranteed without the former. Critics of Allied strategy in the Middle East during this period must also answer the question: what were the alternatives, if any? Was there some other strategy staring the Allies in the face, with which they could or should have better protected their considerable economic and strategic interests in this part of the world? Or should they have simply bowed to the Soviets’ preponderant conventional superiority, and abdicated the Middle East and South-East Asia to their hegemony? There was indeed a woeful shortage of forces to meet the potential Soviet threat to the Middle East. But was the situation in Europe any better? In both theatres, the ‘nuclear deterrent/shield’ was to be the panacea that would compensate for the Allies’ conventional inferiority. Finally, I should like to state that this has not been an attempt to write a definitive military and strategic history of the Middle East during the 1950s. Rather, this study should be regarded as an initial attempt to broaden perspectives, and to suggest a wider context for understanding the considerations that determined the actions of the UK and the US in the Middle East during this formative, post-colonial period.

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1 ALLIED GLOBAL STRATEGY 1 Martin Van Creveld, ‘The Great Illusion: Concerning the Future of War in Our Age’, in Michael Graham Fry (ed.), Power, Personalities and Policies (London: Frank Cass, 1992), p. 32. 2 On questions of American post-war diplomacy and strategy, I have benefitted greatly from the following: Melvyn P. Leffler, A Preponderance of Power: National Security, the Truman Administration, and the Cold War (Stanford: Stanford University Press, 1992), and especially from Marc Trachtenberg, History and Strategy (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1991), and A Constructed Peace: The Making of the European Settlement, 1945–1963 (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1999). 3 N.J. Wheeler, ‘British Nuclear Weapons and Anglo-American relations, 1945–54’, International Affairs vol. 62, 1986, pp. 72–86. 4 Steven L. Rearden and Samuel R. Williams, Jr., The Origins of U.S. Nuclear Strategy, 1945–1953 (New York: St Martin’s Press, 1993), p. 171. 5 Stephen Kirby, ‘Britain, NATO and European Security: The Irreducible Commitment’, in John Baylis (ed.), British Defence Policy in a Changing World (London: Croom Helm, 1977), p. 100. 6 Simon J. Ball, The Bomber in British Strategy: Doctrine, Strategy, and Britain’s World Role, 1945–1960 (Boulder, CO: Westview Press, 1995), pp. 68, 78–79. 7 JP (53) 112, 4 December 1953, Defe 6/24. PRO. 8 JP (53) 49, 13 May 1953, Defe/23, PRO. 9 See Kirby, ‘Britain, NATO and European Security’, p.102; John Kent, Egypt and the Defence of the Middle East, part I, 1945–1949 (London: The Stationery Office, 1998), p. LXXI; and ibid., part II, 1949–1953, p. 398; also Rearden and Williams, Origins of U.S. Nuclear Strategy, p. 175. 10 MC 33 was approved by Supreme Headquarters, Allied Powers, Europe (SHAPE) in 1951, and remained the basis for NATO planning until the 1960s; see Ball, The Bomber in British Strategy, pp. 75–76. 11 Charles A. Sullivan, Chief of Policy Division, Office of the Assistant Secretary for Defense to Robert R. Bowie, Director of Policy Planning Staff (PPS), 6 July 1955, PPS files, lot 66 D 70, box 98, National Archives, Washington DC (NA). 12 See Trachtenberg, History and Strategy, p. 4. 13 Ian Clark and Nicholas J. Wheeler, The British Origins of Nuclear Strategy, 1945–1955 (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1989), pp. 82, 96; on the debate inside the British Cabinet on whether to retain the Middle East, cf. Michael J. Cohen, Fighting World War Three from the Middle East: Allied Contingency Plans, 1945–1954 (London: Frank Cass, 1997), pp. 70–83.

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14 See Clark and Wheeler, British Origins of Nuclear Strategy, pp. 94–96. 15 John Lewis Gaddis, We Now Know: Rethinking Cold War History (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1997), p. 98. 16 Ibid., pp. 217, 228; also, Field Marshal Lord Bramall and General Sir William Jackson, The Chiefs: The Story of the United Kingdom Chiefs of Staff (London: Brassey’s, 1992), p. 290. 17 See Bramall and Jackson, The Chiefs, p. 111. 18 Kenneth W. Condit, History of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, vol. VI, The Joint Chiefs of Staff and National Policy, 1955–1956 (Washington DC: Historical Office, Joint Staff, 1992), pp. 66–68. 19 Cf Gaddis, We Now Know, pp. 111, 238, 244. 20 Churchill to Eisenhower, 12 January 1955, The Ann Whitman file, International Series, box 19, The Eisenhower Library (EL). 21 See Ball, The Bomber in British Strategy, p. 9; on Churchill’s and Butler’s calculations, see Bramall and Jackson, The Chiefs, p. 290. 22 Note by Air Chief Marshal Sir John Slessor, Chief of the Air Staff, 1 March 1952, in Air 75/55, PRO. 23 See Clark and Wheeler, British Origins of Nuclear Strategy, pp. 219, 221; on the American development of tactical nuclear weapons, project VISTA, see Clark and Wheeler, ibid., pp. 147–48, and Trachtenberg, History and Strategy, p. 129. 24 See Trachtenberg, A Constructed Peace, p. 159. 25 See Trachtenberg, History and Strategy, pp. 159, 165. 26 See Trachtenberg, A Constructed Peace, pp. 187–88. 27 See Condit, History of the Joint Chiefs, pp. 132–33, 149. 28 See Bramall and Jackson, The Chiefs, p. 321. 29 Ibid., pp. 270, 277, 281. 30 The most significant British spy exposed was Klaus Fuchs, who had fled from Nazi Germany to the UK in 1933. After World War Two, Fuchs had served as head of the physics department at the British Nuclear Research Centre at Harwell. In January 1950, following information received from a KGB defector to the West, Fuchs confessed to handing over information on the British nuclear programme to the Soviets. He was sentenced to 14 years in prison. 31 See Wheeler, British Nuclear Weapons, p. 72; and Bramall and Jackson, The Chiefs, p. 282. 32 COS memorandum, ‘Defence policy and global strategy’, 17 June 1952, D (52) 26, Cab 131/12, PRO; reprinted in Kent, Egypt and Defence of Middle East, part II, pp. 398–429, also part I, pp. LXVIII–LXIX; and Ball, The Bomber, p. 55; Clark and Wheeler, British Origins of Nuclear Strategy, pp. 161, 171–73. 33 On the development of the UK’s V-Bomber force – the Valiant, Vulcan and Victory – see Cohen, Fighting World War, pp. 66–68. 34 Slessor to Secretary of State for Air, 5 November 1951, in Air 8/2045, PRO. 35 See Clarke and Wheeler, British Origins of Nuclear Strategy, pp. 165, 174; Ball, The Bomber in British Strategy, p. 65. 36 Report of COS Working Party on operational use of Atomic Weapons, OAW/P (53) 2, 5 June 1953, in Defe 32/3, PRO. 37 See Ball, The Bomber in British Strategy, pp. 59–60, 78, 143–44; annex to JP (57) 8, 1 February 1957, Defe 6/40, PRO; and Kent, Egypt and Defence of Middle East, part I, p. LXXXIX. 38 Annex to JP (57) 8, and Defe 6/40, PRO and S.J. Ball, Egypt and Defence of Middle East. 39 See Bramall and Jackson, The Chiefs, pp. 10, 77; and I. Clark and Wheeler, British Origins of Nuclear Strategy, p. 202.

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40 Cf. JP (53) 112, 4 December 1953, Defe 6/24; OAW/P (53) 2, 5 June 1953, Defe 32/3; and memo by RAF Director of Plans, 14 May 1956, PRO; also Ball, The Bomber in British Strategy, p. 53. 41 See Clark and Wheeler, British Origins of Nuclear Strategy, p. 12. 42 C.A.S. Dickson to Prime Minister Churchill, 14 February 1955, in Prem 11/1191, PRO. 43 See Ball, The Bomber in British Strategy, pp. 50, 66. 44 Sir William Elliot to Ministry of Defence, 30 January 1952, in Defe 20/1, PRO; also Ball, The Bomber in British Strategy, p. 64. 45 Sir William Elliot to General Hoyt Vanderberg, 7 February 1952, in Defe 20/1, PRO. 46 See Ball, The Bomber in British Strategy, pp. 62, 66, 162; and Clark and Wheeler, British Origins of Nuclear Strategy, pp. 112, 123. Boyle, claim at Chiefs of Staff meeting, 21 January 1958, in COS (59) 7th, in Defe 4/103, PRO. 47 Duncan Sandys (Minister of Supply) to Prime Minister Churchill, 15 June 1954, in Prem 11/1763, PRO. 48 Eden to Eisenhower, 5 October 1956, and Eisenhower to Eden, 12 October 1956, Eden File, July–November 1956, Papers as President of the United States, 1953–1961 (Ann Whitman file) International Series, box, 21, EL. 49 On the visit of the USAF officers to RAF bases, see Secretary of State for Air, Lord De L’Isle and Dudley to Prime Minister Churchill, 10 January 1955, in Prem 11/1763, PRO. The aircraft studied by the USAF at the end of 1954 included the three V-Bombers, the Canberra light bomber and the Javelin all-weather fighters. On the RAF’s receipt of American thermonuclear bombs in 1958, See Ball, The Bomber in British Nuclear Strategy, p. 162. 50 Memorandum by the RAF Director of Plans, ‘The Deterrent’, 14 May 1956, in Air 8/2045, PRO. 51 See Ball, The Bomber in British Nuclear Strategy, p. 49; N.J. Wheeler, ‘British Nuclear Weapons’, p. 72; and Bramall and Jackson, The Chiefs, p. 278. Sir Hugh Trenchard, the first Chief of the Air Staff, was the ‘father’ of the RAF. 52 See Bramall and Jackson, The Chiefs, p. 279; and Franklyn Arthur Johnson, Defence by Ministry: The British Ministry of Defence, 1944–1974 (London: Duckworth, 1980), pp. 186–87. 53 See Ball, The Bomber in British Nuclear Strategy, pp. 9, 53, 65. 54 COS (56) 272, 13 July 1956, in Defe 32/5, PRO. 55 Ibid. 56 See Bramall and Jackson, The Chiefs, pp. 277–80, 287. 57 Details from the Sandys White Paper in A. Gorst and L. Johnman, The Suez Crisis (London: Routledge, 1997), The Suez Crisis, pp. 154–56. 58 Ibid., pp. 316–19. 59 See Ball, The Bomber in British Nuclear Strategy, pp. 148–50. 60 Ibid., pp. 137–38; and Cohen, Fighting World War Three, pp. 67–68. 61 See Ball, The Bomber in British Nuclear Strategy, p. 97; and Rearden, Williams, Origins of U.S. Nuclear Strategy, pp. 169, 174. 62 See Clark and Wheeler, British Origins Nuclear Strategy, pp. 108, 231. 63 COS (56) 451, 31 December 1956, in Defe 32/5, PRO; see also chapter 11. 64 See Bramall and Jackson, The Chiefs, p. 316; Eisenhower–MacMillan conversation at Bermuda summit conference, 22 March 1957, files of the office of the staff secretary, White House office, International Trips and Meetings file, box 2. EL; also I. Clark and J. Wheeler, British Origins of Nuclear Strategy, p. 240. 65 See Condit, History of the Joint Chiefs, pp. 37, 39–40; and Taylor, The Uncertain Trumpet, pp. 43–44, 46. 66 Eisenhower to Everett E. (‘Swede’) Haslett, 20 August 1956, in Robert Griffith, Ike’s Letters to a Friend, 1941–1958 (Lawrence: University of Kansas, 1984), p. 168.

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67 See Trachtenberg, A Constructed Peace, pp. 173–74. 68 Eisenhower to Haslett, 20 August 1956, in Griffith, Ike’s Letters, p. 169. 69 Cf. Robert J. Watson, History of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, vol. V, The Joint Chiefs of Staff and National Policy, 1953–1954 (Washington DC: Historical Division, Joint Chiefs of Staff, 1986), pp. 1, 15, 35, 84. 70 Cf. oral interview with General Nathan F. Twining, Chief of Staff, USAF, 1955–57, 12 September 1967, p. 209. EL. 71 General Maxwell D. Taylor, The Uncertain Trumpet (New York: Harper & Brothers, 1960), p. 20. 72 See Taylor, Uncertain Trumpet, pp. 28–29; Ridgway article of 21 January 1956, quoted in idem, p. 19. 73 See Taylor, Uncertain Trumpet, pp. 17–18. 74 Oral interview with General Nathan F. Twining, 12 September 1967, p. 225, EL. 75 See Taylor, Uncertain Trumpet, pp. 14–15, 17; and Gerald Mathew B. Ridway, as told to Harold H. Martin, Soldier: The Memoirs of Matthew B. Ridway (New York: Harper and Brothers, 1956), pp. 272–73, 286, 290; on the controversy which the B-36 provoked, cf. Condit, History of the Joint Chiefs, pp. 330–51. 76 See Rearden and Williams, Origins of U.S. Nuclear Strategy, pp. 108, 168; on the American experimentation with tactical nuclear weapons – Project VISTA – cf I. Clark and J. Wheeler, British Origins of Nuclear Strategy, pp. 147–48, 195. 77 See Trachtenberg, History and Strategy, p. 128; and idem, A Constructed Peace p. 156. 78 See Rearden and Williams, Origins of U.S. Nuclear Strategy, p. 162. 79 See Trachtenberg, History and Strategy, p. 158. 80 See Gaddis, We now Know, p. 100. 81 See Clark and Wheeler, British Origins of Nuclear Strategy, pp. 178–79. 82 See Watson, Joint Chiefs of Staff, pp. 4, 36–37. 83 Barbara Tuchman, The March of Folly (London: Michael Joseph, 1984), p. 252. 84 Cf. Ronald W. Preuessen and John Foster Dulles, The Road to Power (New York: Free Press, 1982), p. XII, cited in J.L. Gaddis, The United States and the End of the Cold War (New York and Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1992), p. 84. 85 See Gaddis, United States and End of Cold War, p. 85. 86 See Watson, Joint Chiefs of Staff, p. 37. 87 See Clark and Wheeler, British Origins of Nuclear Strategy, p. 180. 88 Trachtenberg, quoting David Rosenberg History and Strategy, p. 134. 89 Meeting between COS and FO officials, 22 February 1954, Defe 32/4, PRO. 90 Dulles – Eisenhower conference, 16 July 1958, in Foreign Relations of the United States, (FRUS) 1958–1960 vol. XII, Near East Region: Iraq; Iran; Arabian Peninsula, US Government Printing Office, Washington DC, 1993, p. 75. 91 See Gaddis, We now Know, p. 222. 92 See Watson, Joint Chiefs of Staff, pp. 84–85. 93 See Clark and Wheeler, British Origins of Nuclear Strategy, p. 176. 94 JIC (58) 4, 24 January 1958, in Cab 158/31, PRO. 95 See Clark and Wheeler, British Origins of Nuclear Strategy, p. 43; and Joint Strategic Plans Committee (JSPC) plan, approved by JCS on 30 March 1955, cited in Condit, History of the Joint Chiefs, pp. 9–30. 96 It has been suggested that one of the main reasons that atomic bombs were not used in Korea was that no suitable targets were found to warrant the risk of escalating the war to World War Three with the Soviets. Cf. Clark and Wheeler, British Origins of Nuclear Strategy, pp. 140–41. 97 See Trachtenberg, History and Strategy, pp. 140–41. 98 Ibid., p. 139. Dulles quote on p. 146. 99 Details in Trachtenberg, A Constructed Peace, pp. 181–83.

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100 101 102 103 104 105

See Condit, History of the Joint Chiefs, p. 6. Ibid., p. 30. See Trachtenberg, History and Strategy, p. 166. Ibid., A Constructed Peace, chapter 5, especially p. 193. NSC 5428, 23 July 1954, in Condit, History of the Joint Chiefs, p. 152. Ibid. 2 BRITISH ASSETS IN THE MIDDLE EAST

1 Barbara Tuchman, The March of Folly (London: Michael Joseph, 1984), p. 382. 2 JP (53) 36 (Final), 12 February 1953, ‘The Suez Canal and Middle East Defence’, Defe 6/23, PRO. 3 Cf. Michael J. Cohen, Fighting World War Three from the Middle East (London: Frank Cass, 1997), pp. 161–94. 4 Annex to JP (53) 118, 22 September 1953, Defe 6/24, and COS (53) 559, 14 November 1953, Defe 5/50, PRO. 5 CAS, Marshal Sir William Dickson, at Cabinet discussion on 2 June 1954, C.C. 37 (54), Cab 128/27, PRO. 6 Minute by Vice CIGS, Lt. Gen. Brownjohn, 12 July 1954, Defe 11/115, PRO. 7 Harold MacMillan, Tides of Fortune, 1945–1955 (New York: Harper and Row, 1969), p. 504. 8 Cf. J.S.Ball, The Bomber in British Strategy: Doctrine, Strategy, and Britain’s World Role, 1945–1960 (Boulder, CO: Westview Press, 1995), p. 109; Ritchie Ovendale, ‘Egypt and the Suez Base Agreement’, in Ritchie Ovendale (ed.), The Foreign Policy of Churchill’s Peacetime Administration, 1951–1955 (Leicester: Leicester University Press, 1988), p. 150. On Egyptian opposition to the British presence in Egypt, Cf. M.J. Cohen, Fighting World War Three, pp. 93, 160, 290–91. 9 Annex to JP (54) 1, 6 January 1954, Defe 6/25, PRO. 10 Cabinet meeting, 3 December 1952, Cab 128/25, PRO. 11 See W. Scott Lucas, Divided We Stand: Britain, the US and the Suez Crisis (London: Hodder and Stoughton, 1991), p. 31. 12 Humphrey Trevelyan, The Middle East in Revolution (London: MacMillan, 1970), p. 4, and Gail E. Meyer, Egypt and the United States (New Jersey and London: Associated University Presses, 1980), p. 61; on the Abu Sueir air base, Cf. M.J. Cohen, Fighting World War Three, pp. 132–42. 13 CIGS, General Sir John Harding, at COS (52) 157th meeting, 14 November 1952, in Defe 7/795, PRO. 14 Annex to JP (53) 36 (Final). 15 JP (54) 1, 6 January 1954, Defe 6/25, PRO. 16 JP (54) 105, 10 January 1955, Defe 6/26, PRO. 17 See Bernard Brodie, Strategy in the Missile Age (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1959), p. 165. 18 On Mounbatten’s proposal, Cf. GHQ, MELF to Minister for Defence, 23 November 1954, and brief for CAS, 22 December 1954, Air 8/1883, PRO. 19 Michael B. Oren, ‘A Winter of Discontent: Britain’s Crisis in Jordan, December 1955–March 1956’, International Journal of Middle East Studies, 22/2 (1990), p. 171. 20 For this citation, and Churchill’s role in the appointment of Abdullah to the Emirate of Transjordan, see Michael J. Cohen, Churchill and the Jews (London: Frank Cass, 1985), pp. 87–89 (revised edn, 2003). 21 See Oren, A Winter of Discontent, p. 172. 22 Cf. brief for Ministers, 13 November 1954, FO 371/110832, PRO. On British subsidizing of Jordan’s armed forces, and on the origins of the Arab Legion in 1926, see Cohen, Churchill, pp. 153–57.

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23 COS (53) 136, 12 March 1953, Defe 5/45, PRO. 24 See brief for Ministers, November 1954, FO 371/110832, PRO. 25 Defence committee meeting of 27 October 1954, in ibid; and JP (53) 128, 11 November 1953, Defe 6/24, PRO. 26 Brief for Ministers, November 1954, FO 371/110832, PRO. 27 Annex to JP (54) 31, 24 March 1954, Defe 6/25, and COS (54), 19 February 1954, Defe 11/88, PRO. 28 C. (54) 181, 31 May 1954, Cab 129/68. PRO. 29 Annexe to JP (54) 31. 30 Ibid. 31 C. (54) 181; and Cabinet discussion, 2 June 1954, C.C. 37 (54), Cab 128/27, PRO. 32 See Elie Podeh, The Quest for Hegemony in the Arab World: The Struggle over the Baghdad Pact (Leiden and New York: E.J. Brill, 1995), pp. 69–70, 76, 92. 33 Cf. ibid., p. 76; Phebe Marr, The Modern History of Iraq (Boulder, CO: Westview Press, 1985), p. 115; and Richard L. Jasse, The ‘Baghdad Pact: Cold War or Colonialism?’, Middle Eastern Studies, 27/1 (1991), p. 148. 34 Cf. minute by P.S. Falla, 5 January 1955, FO 371/115484, PRO; and E. Podeh, The Quest for Hegemony, pp. 90–92. 35 Cf. Richard Lamb, The Failure of the Eden Government (London: Sidgwick & Jackson, 1987), p. 173; and Richard C. Whiting, ‘The Suez Canal and the British Economy, 1918–1960’, in Keith M. Wilson (ed.), Imperialism and Nationalism in the Middle East: The Anglo-Egyptian Experience, 1882–1982 (London: Mansell, 1983), p. 85. 36 Cf. appendix I to DO (46) 80, ‘British strategic requirements in the Middle East’, 18 June 1946, in Cab 131/3; and note by D.J.P. Lee, secretary to the COS Committee, 13 July 1956, COS (56) 270, in Defe 5/69, PRO; also Frank Brenchley, Britain and the Middle East: An Economic History, 1945–87 (London: Leslie Crook, 1989), pp. 115, 119–21; Diane B. Kunz, The Economic Diplomacy of the Suez Crisis (Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 1991), p. 199; and Ronald Hyam and William Roger Louis, ‘British Documents on the End of Empire’, Series A, vol. 4, The Conservative Government and the End of Empire, 1957–1964 (London: The Stationery Office, 2000), p. xLII. 37 M.E. (O) (56) 4, 20 February 1956, ‘Middle East Oil’, in Cab 134/1298, PRO. 38 See Brenchley, Britain and the Middle East, pp. 115, 119–21. 39 M.E. (O) (56) 5, ‘United Kingdom Trade with the Middle East’, 20 February 1956, in Cab 134/1298, PRO. 40 Economic Intelligence Committee report on Middle East oil, 3 May 1956, Office of the Special Assistant for National Security Affairs, 1952–61, NSC series, Briefing notes, box 14, Eisenhower Library (EL). 41 Dulles conference with Senators Kuchel, Bush, Hruska and Cotton, 23 April 1956, Dulles papers, 1951–59, subject series, box 10, EL. 42 289th meeting of NSC, 28 June 1956, in Ann Whitman file, 1953–61, box 8, EL. 43 Wilbur Crane Eveland, Ropes of Sand: America’s Failure in the Middle East (New York: W.W. Norton, 1980), p. 84. Eveland mentions NSC 540, on the denial of Petroleum Resources to the Soviets, which detailed measures to be taken by the CIA and the military to sabotage the oil fields. This document has not apparently been released. However, Gen. J. Lawton Collins, Chief of Staff, the US Army, is on record as telling a State – Joint Chiefs meeting that the refineries could easily be destroyed by air attack; cf. minutes of meeting of 28 November 1952, in FRUS, 1952–54, vol. IX, part I, Washington DC: US Government Printing Office, 1986, pp. 324–25. 44 John Kent (ed.), Egypt and the Defence of the Middle East, 1945–1956, 3 vols, part I, 1945–49 (London: The Stationery Office, 1998), pp. XXXVII, XCIII.

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45 Patrick H. Dean to Lt. Gen. Brownjohn, Chief Staff Officer, Minister of Defence, 18 November 1954, in COS (54) 356, 20 November 1954, Defe 5/55, copy in Air 8/2051, PRO. Dean went on to serve as Deputy Under-Secretary, from 1956 to 1960, and was knighted in 1957. 46 Annex to COS (54) 19th, 19 February 1954; and C.C. 37 (54). 47 J.F.D. Bush, secretary to the JPS, to Director of Plans at the Admiralty, Air Ministry and Admiralty, and to G.L. McDermott, Foreign Office, 24 February 1954, Defe 11/88, PRO. 48 Minute by J.F. Brevis, 23 July 1954, FO 371/110831, PRO. 49 Dean to Brownjohn, COS (54) 356, 18 November 1954; JP (53) 128, 11 November 1953, in Defe 6/24; and annex to JP (54) 1, 6 January 1954, in Defe 6/25 and JP (54) 105, PRO. 50 JP (53) 128; and annex to JP (54) 101, ‘Strategic Concept for the Middle East’, JP (54) 101, 6 December 1954, in Defe 6/26, PRO. 51 Dean to Brownjohn, COS (54) 356. 52 Ibid. 53 Ibid. 54 Marc Trachtenberg, History and Strategy (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1991), pp. 167–68.

3 THE BRITISH STRATEGIC CONCEPT FOR THE MIDDLE EAST 1 Humphrey Trevelyan, The Middle East in Revolution (London: MacMillan, 1970), p. 7. 2 Cf. JIC reports, JIC (54) 37, 14 April 1954, in Cab 158/17 part I; and JIC (54) 4, 16 December 1954, in Cab 158/17, part II; also annex to JP (54) 101, 6 December 1954, in Defe 6/26, PRO. 3 JIC (54) 37, 14 April 1954; in Cab 158/17 part I. 4 JP (54) 101. 5 JP (53) 24 (Final), ‘The Radical Review: Mobility in the Middle East’, 5 February 1953, Defe 6/23; JP(53) 112, ‘Outline of UK Intentions in War, January–June, 1954’, 4 December 1953, in Defe 6/24. PRO; also M.J. Cohen, Fighting World War Three from the Middle East (London: Frank Cass, 1997), pp. 307–08. 6 COS (52) 157th meeting, 14 November 1952, Defe 7/795, PRO. 7 JP (53) 94, ‘The Radical Review: The Reduction of Forces in the Middle East’, 23 June 1953, in Defe 6/24, PRO. 8 COS (53) 559, 14 November 1953, in Defe 5/50, PRO. 9 GHQ, ME to Ministry of Defence, 8 September 1954, in Defe 11/115, PRO. 10 Ibid. 11 See Cohen, Fighting World War Three, pp. 294–95, on the abortive effort to set up the Middle East Command in 1951, cf. idem, chapter 8. 12 COS (52) 157th meeting, Defe 6/24, PRO; and COS (53) 316, 1 July 1953, Defe 5/47, PRO. Harding stressed repeatedly the need for at least the nucleus of a MEDO, cf. COS meeting, 17 February 1953, COS 24 (53) 3, in Defe 4/60. PRO; see also George McGhee, The US-Turkish-NATO Middle East Connection: How the Truman Doctrine Contained the Soviets in the Middle East (New York: St Martin’s Press,1990), p. 124. 13 Defence Secretary Wilson to Secretary of State, 17 August 1953, 780.5/8-1753, box 4041, National Archives (NA). 14 COS (53) 316. 15 COS (52) 157th meeting.

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16 Ministry of Defence to GHQ, Middle East Land Forces (MELF), 5 February 1954, in FO 371/110831. 17 Ibid., and JP (53) 112, 4 December 1953, Defe 6/24, PRO. 18 COS (53) 559, in Defe 5/50, PRO. 19 See annex to JP (55) 13, 15 March 1955, Defe 6/25, PRO. 20 Ministry of Defence to GHQ, MELF, in FO 371/110831; and COS (53) 559. 21 JPS 54/110R, 18 August 1954, in Defe 11/115; and JP (54) 105, 10 January 1955, in Defe 6/26, PRO. Apart from the Hastings transport aircraft, the JPS listed a requirement for the pre-stocking in the forward area of 7,000 tons of stores, 3,900 vehicles and trailers and 96 guns. 22 JP (54) 105. 23 Ibid., and CAS – VCAS, 11 December 1953, in Air 20/8762; also Ministry of Defence to GHQ, MELF, 5 February 1954, in FO 371/110831, PRO. 24 JP (54) 101, 6 December 1954, in Defe 6/26, PRO. 25 Annex to JP (53) 36 (Final), 12 February 1953, ‘The Suez Canal and Middle East Defence’; JP (53) 49, 13 May 1953, Defe 6/23; and JIC (54) 72, 11 November 1954, in Cab 158/18, PRO. 26 Ibid. 27 Cf. DCC (54) 8, 19 February 1954, COS (54) 59, in Defe 5/51; and JIC (54) 64, 14 January 1955, Cab 158/18, PRO. 28 Ibid. 29 DCC (54) 8. 30 JIC (54) 64. 31 DCC (54) 8, and annex to COS (54) 320, 11 October 1954, in Defe 11/116, PRO. 32 DCC (54) 8; annex to JP (54) 101; and JP (54) 105, 10 January, 1955, in Defe 6/26, PRO. 33 JIC (54) 64. 34 Ibid., and DCC (54) 8. 35 JIC (54) 64. 36 Ibid., and annex to JP (54) 101. 37 Annex to JP (54) 101. 38 Cf. the RAF’s Plan H of 1951, in Cohen, Fighting World War Three, p. 140; annex to JP (55) 74, 25 June 1955, in Defe 6/30; and annex to COS (60), 9th meeting, 4 February 1960, in Defe 32/6, PRO. The Canberras remained on Cyprus until 1969, when they were replaced by Vulcans; the latter were finally withdrawn in 1975, see Simon J. Ball, ‘Bomber Bases and British Strategy in the Middle East, 1945–1949, Journal of Strategic Studies, vol. 14/4 (December 1991), pp. 181, 530. 39 See Ball, ibid. 40 ACAS memorandum, 20 April 1955; and annex to COS (55) 60, 23 March 1955, in Defe 5/57, PRO. 41 Memorandum by Assistant Chief of Air Staff (ACAS), Operations, 20 April 1955, Air 8/2043; and annex to JP (55) 50 (Final), 1 June 1955, in Defe 6/30, PRO. 42 COS (55) 43, 25 February 1955, in Defe 5/56, PRO; also JSPC 883/78, 11 August 1955, RG 218, Geographic File, 1945–56, section 12, CCS 381, section 22, box 12, NA. 43 Annex to COS (55) 60, in Defe 5/57, PRO. 44 Annex D to COS (55) 49, 4 March 1955, in Defe 5/57, PRO. 45 Ibid. 46 Annex to COS (55) 60, in Defe 5/57, PRO. The first US Hydrogen bomb test released energy equivalent to five-million tons (5 megatons); cf. Bernard Brodie, Strategy in the Missile Age (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1959), p. 154. 47 On the Levant–Iraq and Inner Ring strategies, Cf. Cohen, Fighting World War Three, pp. 166–67, 275–76, 282–83.

227

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48 Cf. ibid., pp. 298–323; also JP (54) 24, 26 February 1954, Defe 6/25, DCC (54) 8, 21 January 1954; and annex to COS (54) 19th, 19 February 1954, Defe 11/88. PRO. 49 JP (54); Dcc(54) 18; and annex to COS (54). 50 JP (53) 41, 4 March 1953, Defe 6/23, annex to JP (54) 1, 6 January 1954, Defe 6/25, COS (54), 19th meeting, 19 February 1954; and note by CIGS Harding, 3 June 1954, FO 371/111003, PRO. 51 CIGS Harding, note, FO 371/111003. 52 Ibid; JP (53) 41, and annex to COS (54) 320, 11 October 1954, Defe 11/116, PRO. 53 JP (53) 41; COS (53) 87, 11 February 1953, in Defe 5/44, PRO; and JP (53) 112. 54 JP (53) 49. On the ‘Inner Ring’ and other proposed defense lines, see Cohen, Fighting World War Three, pp. 166–67. 55 COS (53) 87. 4 THE ARAB–ISRAELI PROBLEM 1 President Eisenhower, 23 July 1958, in Foreign Relations of the United States (FRUS) 1958–1960, vol. XII, (Washington, DC: US Government Printing House, 1993), p. 98. 2 JIC (54) 72, 11 November 1954, in Cab 158/18, PRO. 3 Ibid. 4 See Yezid Sayigh and Avi Shlaim (eds), The Cold War and the Middle East (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1977), pp. 280, 291. 5 On the rise of the State of Israel, see Michael J. Cohen, Palestine and the Great Powers, 1945–1948 (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1982); on Truman’s support for Israel, see. idem, Truman and Israel (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1990); on Israel’s military strength, cf. report by conference of US chiefs of missions, Istanbul, 14 May 1954, in Foreign Relations of the United States (FRUS) 1952–1954, vol. IX, part I (Washington, DC: US Government Printing House, 1986), p. 509. In 1954, it was estimated that Israel had an army of five divisions, of 57,000 regulars and 145,000 trained reserves. 6 COS (53) 213, 26 March 1953, Defe 5/46, PRO. On Israel’s geographic, military and strategic importance, cf. Michael J. Cohen, Fighting World War Three from the Middle East: Allied Continency Plans, 1945–1954 (London: Frank Cass, 1997), chapters 4 and 7. 7 On British policy in Palestine from 1939–1945, cf. Michael J. Cohen, Palestine: Retreat from the Mandate, 1936–1945 (London and New York: Paul Elek, 1978), and Martin Kolinsky, Britain’s War in the Middle East: Strategy and Diplomacy, 1936–1942 (London: MacMillan, 1999). 8 See for instance, Isaac Alteras, Eisenhower and Israel: U.S.–Israel Relations, 1953–1960 (Gainesville: University Press of Florida, 1993); and this author’s review of it in American Jewish Archives, vol. 47, no. 2, Fall/Winter, 94. 9 That is, National Intelligence Estimate, NIE-92, 18 August 1953, FRUS, 1952–1954, vol. IX, part I, pp. 1, 290. 10 Stephen E. Ambrose, Eisenhower: The President (London: George Allen & Unwin, 1984), p. 387. 11 Meeting of NSC (262nd), 20 October 1955, FRUS, 1955–57, vol. XIV, p. 620. 12 Eisenhower report to 153rd meeting of the National Security Council, 9 July 1953, FRUS, 1952–1954, vol. IX, part I, p. 397. 13 NSC 155/1, United States Objectives and Policies with Respect to the Near East, 14 July 1953, in ibid., p. 402. 14 See NSC 5428, 23 July 1954, pp. 525–35. 15 See Steven L. Spiegel, and William B. Quandt, ‘The Western Alliance in the Middle East’, Introduction and pp. 1, 9–10, in Steven L. Spiegel (ed.), The Middle East and the Western Alliance (London: George Allen & Unwin, 1982).

228

NOTES

16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34

35 36 37 38 39 40

41 42 43 44 45

FO to COS, 26 June 1953, in COS (53) 312, 1 July 1953, in Defe 5/45, PRO. NIE-92, 18 August 1953, FRUS, 1952–1954, vol. IX, part I, pp. 1,276, 1,290. FO to COS, 26 June 1953. On the negotiations in February 1951 and in October 1952, Cf. Cohen, Fighting World War Three, chapter 7. COS (53) 213, 26 March 1953, Defe 5/46, PRO; and COS (53) 312, in Defe 5/46, PRO. Ibid. COS (53) 312. See Ambrose, Eisenhower, pp. 386–87. Shuckburgh minute, 23 September 1955, FO 371/113674, PRO. Caccia minute, 23 September 1955, ibid. Diary entry for 6 March 1956, in Evelyn Shuckburgh, Descent to Suez selected for publication by John Charmley (London: Weidenfeld & Nicholson, 1986). See Memorandum by Selwyn Lloyd, Minister of Defence, DC (55) 13, 6 July 1955, in Cab 131/16, PRO. Neil Caplan, Futile Diplomacy: Operation Alpha and the Failure of Anglo-American Diplomacy in the Arab–Israeli Conflict, 1954–1956, vol. 4 (London: Frank Cass, 1997), p. 30. See Selwyn Lloyd memorandum, 6 July 1955. Ibid. Ibid. Cf. Minute by P.S. Falla, 18 August 1954, in FO 371/110827, FO – Washington, 19 August 1954, in Defe 11/115; and COS (54) 341, 29 October 1954, in Defe 5/55, PRO. D (55) 6th meeting, 13 July 1955, in Cab 131/16, PRO. The UK was to equip Israel with one squadron of Meteor fighters, with ‘a small component of night-fighters’, and the six Centurion tanks that it had already promised. Cf. Motti Golani, Israel in Search of a War: The Sinai Campaign, 1955–1956 (Brighton: Sussex Academic Press, 1998), p. 26; and Zach Levey, Israel and the Western Powers, 1952–1960, (Chapel Hill: The University of North Carolina Press, 1997), pp. 64, 68, 70. Shuckburgh, diary entry, 8 October 1955, in Charmley, Descent to Suez, p. 290. See Kamal Salibi, The Modern History of Jordan (London and New York: I.B. Tauris, 1993), pp. 152–53. See Stuart A. Cohen, ‘A Still Stranger Aspect of Suez: British Operational Plans to Attack Israel, 1955–1956’, International History Review, x/2, (May 1988), p. 263. See Brief for the Chief of the Air Staff, 6 April 1955, Air 8/1895, and annex to JP (55) 138, 10 November 1955, in Defe 11/129, PRO. Brief for Ministers, 13 November 1954. The Anglo-Jordan Treaty was supposed to have run, subject to revisions, until 1968, and to come up for renegotiation from 1963. Annex to JP (54) 83, 17 September 1954, in Defe 6/26; and COS (54) 341, 29 October 1954, in Defe 5/55; and JOI 27, 13 June 1955, in Defe 11/129, PRO; also Sir John Bagot Glubb, A Soldier with the Arabs (London: Hodder & Stoughton, 1950), p. 386. See Glubb, A Soldier with the Arabs, pp. 386–87. Richard Lamb, The Failure of the Eden Government (London: Sidgwick & Jackson, 1987), pp. 186–87. Cf. COS (54) 341, 29 October 1954, in Defe 5/55, and annex to JP(55) 13, 15 March 1955, in Defe 6/25, PRO. COS instructions to British Defence Coordinating Committee, Middle East (BDCC, ME), January 1954, in JP (54) 22 March 1954, in Defe 6/25, PRO. Ibid.

229

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46 47 48 49 50 51 52

53 54 55 56 57 58 59 60 61 62

63 64 65 66 67 68 69 70 71 72 73 74 75

Minute by J.F. Brevis, 23 July 1954, in FO 371/110831, PRO. Annex to JP (54) 83. Ibid., COS (54) 341, 29 October 1954, in Defe 5/55, PRO. Directive from British Chiefs to BDCC, ME in COS (55) 76, 12 April 1955, Defe 5/57, JOI 27, 13 June 1955, in Defe 11/129; and annex to COS (56) 180, 2 May 1956, PRO; also Cohen, A Still Stranger Aspect, pp. 264, 267. JOI 27, 13 June 1955, in Defe 11/129; and annex to COS (56) 180, 2 May 1956, PRO. JP (55) 100 (D), 11 October 1955, in Defe 6/13, PRO. JOI 27; annex to JP (54) 83; annex to JP (55) 13, 15 March 1955, in Defe/25; COS (55) 12 April 1955, in Defe 5/57; Air Marshal Pelly to RAF Air Marshal, Sir William Dickson, 2 August 1955, and Assistant Chief of Air Staff to Chief of Air Staff, 30 August 1955, in Air 8/1895; and GHQ, ME to Ministry of Defence, 28 March 1956, Air 8/1896, PRO; also Cohen, A Still Stranger Aspect, pp. 268, 271. Ibid. GHQ, ME to Ministry of Defence, 28 March 1956, Air 8/1896, PRO. JOI 27; and annex to JP (54) 83. Annex to JP (55) 13, 15 March 1955, in Defe 6/29, PRO. Ibid. Cf. Minute by E.M. Rose, 8 September 1955, FO 371/115652, PRO; and Benny Morris, Israel’s Border Wars: 1949–1956, (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1993), pp. 26, 265. Minute by P.S. Falla, 18 August 1954, on conversation with Air Marshal Sir Claude Pelly, commander MEAF, in FO 371/110827. Cf. W. Scott Lucas, Divided we Stand: Britain, the US and the Suez Crisis (London: Hodder & Stoughton, 1991), pp. 38, 48–50. Uriel Dann, King Hussein and the Challenge of Arab Radicalism: Jordan, 1955–1967 (New York: Oxford University Press, 1989), p. 24. FO to COS, 26 September 1955, in COS (55) 241, 27 September 1955, in Defe 5/16, PRO; also Martin Van Creveld, The Sword and the Olive (New York: Public Affairs, 1998), p. 137; and Rami Ginat, ‘Origins of the Czech–Egyptian Arms Deal: A Reappraisal’, in David Tal (ed.), The 1956 War: Collusion and Rivalry in the Middle East (London: Frank Cass, 2001), p. 161. See Lucas, Divided We Stand, p. 61. Diary entry of 26 September 1955, Shuckburgh, Descent to Suez, p. 281. COS (55) 241; and Lucas, Divided We Stand, pp. 61, 63. COS (55) 241. COS (55) 241; and JP (55) 115, 3 October 1955, in Defe 6/13, PRO; also Lucas, Divided We Stand, p. 63; and Lamb, The Failure, p. 172. Diary entry of 22 September 1955, Shuckburgh, Descent to Suez, p. 278. Diary entry of 23 September 1955, p. 279. Annex to JP (55) 138 (Final), 10 November 1955, in Defe 11/129, PRO. Diary entry for 2 October 1955, Shuckburgh, Descent to Suez, p. 286. Memorandum by William Y. Elliott, Office of Defense Mobilization (ODM) to National Security Council Planning Board, 13 October 1955, PPS Lot file 61 D 167, box 35, NA. NSC meeting, 20 October 1955, in Foreign Relations of the United States (FRUS), 1955–1957, vol. XIV, p. 622. Ibid. Dulles officially turned down Israel’s requests for arms and a US security guarantee at a meeting with Israeli Prime Minister Sharett, on 26 October 1955, at Geneva, cf. (FRUS), 1955–1957, vol. XIV, pp. 657–59. State Department to Dulles (Geneva), 29 October 1955, (FRUS), 1955–1957, vol. XIV, pp. 677–79; also Gail E. Meyer, Egypt and the United States: The Formative Years (Cranbury, NJ: Associated University Presses, 1980), pp. 130–31.

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76 On Alpha, Cf. Caplan, Futile Diplomacy; and Nigel John Ashton, Eisenhower, MacMillan and the Problem of Nasser (London and New York: MacMillan and St Martin’s, 1996), pp. 57–58. 77 Cf. Memorandum by Foreign Secretary Lloyd, 11 June 1955, in Cab 129/75, PRO; also Peter L. Hahn, The United States, Great Britain and Egypt, 1945–1956 (Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 1991), p. 195; and Anthony Gorst and Lewis Johnman, The Suez Crisis (London: Routledge, 1997), p. 36. 78 Humphrey Trevelyan, The Middle East in Revolution (London: MacMillan, 1970), p. 41. 79 Diary entry of 7 March 1955, in Shuckburgh, Descent to Suez, p. 252. 80 Shuckburgh minute, 13 April 1955, in FO 371/115867, PRO. 81 Ibid. 82 Cf. Shimon Shamir, ‘The Collapse of Project Alpha’, in W.R. Louis and R. Owen (eds), Suez 1956: The Crisis and its Consequences (Oxford: Clavendon Press 1989). 83 State to Dulles (Geneva), 29 October 1955, and editorial notes, FRUS, 1955–1957, vol. XIV, pp. 677–79, 674–75; also Shuckburgh, diary entry for 5 April 1955, in Descent to Suez, pp. 252–54; Lucas, Divided We Stand, pp. 80, 82; Lamb, Failure of Eden, p. 171; Shamir, The Collapse, p. 95; and Caplan, Futile Diplomacy, p. XVIII and chapters 7 and 8. 84 Keith Kyle, ‘Britain and the Crisis, 1955–1956’, in Louis and R. Owen (eds), Suez 1956, pp. 108–09. 85 Cf. Meyer, Egypt and the United States, pp. 132–33, 136–37; Hahn, The United States, p. 194; and Lucas, Divided We Stand, p. 79; also FRUS, 1955–1957, vol. XIV, pp. 781–894. 86 Shuckburgh to Sir Ivone Kirkpatrick, 10 March 1956, FO 371/121277, PRO. 87 Allen to John Foster Dulles, 29 October 1955, FRUS, 1955–1957, vol. XIV, p. 680. 88 See Hahn, The United States, p. 200. 89 Ibid., David Carlton, Britain and the Suez Question, (Oxford: Blackwell, 1988), p. 29; and Mohhamed Hassanein Heikal, The Cairo Documents, (New York: Doubleday, 1973), p. 64. 90 Private memorandum by Air Chief Marshal Sir John Slessor, January 1957, in Air 75/100, PRO.

5 THE NORTHERN TIER TAKES SHAPE 1 Yezid Sayigh and Avi Shlaim (eds), The Cold War and the Middle East (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1997), p. 291. 2 Rouhollah K. Ramazani, The Northern Tier: Afghanistan, Iran and Turkey (Princeton: D. Van Norstrand, 1966), p. 132. 3 Ibid., pp. 118, 123. 4 Peter L. Hahn, The United States, Great Britain, and Egypt, 1945–1956: Strategy and Diplomacy in the Early Cold War (Chapel Hill: UNC, 1991), p. 244. The exception to Truman’s and his Secretaries of State lack of personal interest in the Middle East was of course Israel. 5 MacMillan’s private notes of conversation on 20 March 1957, in Prem 11/1836, PRO. 6 Diary entry for 4 November 1955, Evelyn Shuckburgh, Descent to Suez, selected for publication by John Charmley (London: Weidenfeld & Nicolson, 1986), p. 296. 7 Private memorandum by Air Chief Marshal Sir John Slessor, January 1957, in Air 75/100, PRO. 8 Waldemar J. Gallman, Iraq Under General Nuri: My Recollections of Nuri al-Said, 1954–1958 (Baltimore: The Johns Hopkins Press, 1964), p. 198. 9 Wilbur C. Eveland, Ropes of Sand: America’s Failure in the Middle East (New York: W.W. Norton, 1980), p. 62.

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10 Ibid., p. 306. 11 Mohammed Hassanein Heikal, The Cairo Documents (New York: Doubleday, 1973), p. 46. 12 Cf. Elie Podeh, The Quest for Hegemony in the Arab World: The Struggle over the Baghdad Pact (Leiden, New York: 1995), p. 249; also Nigel John Ashton, ‘The Hijacking of a Pact: the formation of the Baghdad Pact and Anglo-American tensions in the Middle East, 1955–1958’, Review of International Studies, vol. 19, (1993), pp. 123–37. 13 Gail E. Meyer, Egypt and the United States: The Formative Years (Cranbury, NJ: Associated University Presses, 1980), p. 90. 14 See Anthony Eden, The Memoirs of Anthony Eden: Full Circle (Boston: Houghton Mifflin, 1960), p. 375. 15 See also, for example, Nigel John Ashton, Eisenhower, MacMillan and the Problem of Nasser (London and New York: MacMillan and St Martin’s, 1996), pp. 46, 210. For an example of ahistoric history writing, or speculation before the opening of the government archives, as well as for an illustration of how misleading key diplomats can be, whether in personal interviews, or in their memoirs, Cf. Meyer, Egypt, p. 100. 16 On this debate, see Michael J. Cohen, Fighting World War Three from the Middle East, (London: Frank Cass, 1997), pp. 245–53. 17 JCS memorandum for Secretary of Defense Wilson, 16 June 1955, in Foreign Relations of the United States (FRUS), 1955–1957, vol. XII, (Washington, DC: US Government printing office, 1991), pp. 72–73. 18 National Intelligence Estimate, NIE 30-4-55, 8 November 1955, p. 196. 19 JCS 1887/424, 20 December 1957, CCS EMMEA (11-19-47), section 66, box 7, National Archives Washington, NA. 20 State – JCS meeting, 10 February 1956, FRUS, 1955–1957, vol. XII, p. 248. 21 JCS memorandum, 9 February 1956, CCS EMMEA (11-19-47); JCS Geographic Files, 1945–56, section 26, box 13; JCS 1887/145, in RG 218, NA; also JCS memorandum of 23 March, and Secretary Wilson to Secretary Dulles of 5 April 1956, in Kenneth W. Condit, History of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, vol. VI: The Joint Chiefs of Staff and National Policy, 1955–1956, (Washington, DC: Historical Office, Joint Staff, 1992), p. 159. 22 NIE 30-4-55; and State – JCS meeting on 23 May 1956, in Lot file 61 D417, box 52, RG 59, NA. 23 On Loy Henderson, Cf. Michael J. Cohen, Truman and Israel (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1990), pp. 91, 224–30; and William Roger Louis, The British Empire in the Middle East, 1945–1951 (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1984), pp. 37–39. 24 State – JCS meeting, 23 May 1956; and Condit, History of the Joint Chiefs, p. 160. 25 See Gallman, Iraq Under General Nuri, p. 74. 26 Report of State, Defense Working Group, 6 June 1955, memorandum by Assistant Secretary of Defense for International Security Affairs, Vice Admiral Arthur C. Davis, 20 June 1955; and Dulles to Wilson, 23 April 1956; Dulles to Secretary of Defense Wilson, 23 April 1956, in FRUS, 1955–1957, vol. XII, pp. 63–70, 98–101, 294; also Condit, History of the Joint Chiefs, p. 160. 27 Ibid. 28 Note on conversation at the White House, 30 January 1956, in Prem 11/1938, PRO. 29 On Dulles’s tour of the Middle East and the administration’s conclusions, cf. NSC meeting on 9 July 1953, FRUS, 1952–54, vol. IX, part I, (Washington, DC: US State Department Historical Office, 1986), pp. 394–96; also Cohen, Fighting World War Three, pp. 312–18, and Hahn, The United States, pp. 18–59. 30 Cf. George McGhee, The US–Turkish–NATO Middle East Connection: How the Truman Doctrine Contained the Soviets in the Middle East (New York: St Martin’s Press, 1990), p. 147.

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31 On the formation of the Turco–Pakistani Pact, see also Behçet K. Yevilbursa, ‘The American Concept of the ‘Northern Tier’ Defence Project and the Signing of the Turco–Pakistani Agreement, 1953–54’, Middle Eastern Studies, vol. 37/3, July 2001, pp. 58–110. 32 Ekavi Athanassopoulou, Turkey: Anglo-American Interests, 1945–1952, The First Enlargement of NATO (London: Frank Cass, 1999), p. 238. 33 Ibid., p. 239. 34 Conversation between ambassador George McGhee, with Foreign Minister Köprülü, July 1952, in McGhee, The US–Turkish–NATO, p. 130. 35 Report on Dulles – Menderes meeting, 26 May 1953, in FRUS, 1952–54, vol. IX, part I, pp. 141–42. 36 See Mcghee, The US–Turkish–NATO, p. 139. In 1965, McGhee built a second home in southern Turkey, and lived there subsequently for part of each year, at least until the publication of this book. 37 NSC 5510, and NSC 5510/1, 28 February 1955, in NSC series, policy papers, White House office of the special assistant for national security affairs, 1952–61, box 15, The Eisenhower Library (EL). This NSC paper was a revision of earlier position papers written by the JCS on the Middle East; General Omar N. Bradley, chairman of the JCS, gave a speech very similar in detail before the Senate Foreign Relations Committee in January 1952, quoted in McGhee, ibid., pp. 88–89. 38 See Mcghee, The US–Turkish–NATO, p. 91; NSC 5708, 29 June 1957, Policy Papers, White House Office, Special Assistant for National Security Affairs, 1952–1961, EL; and William Hale, ‘Turkey’, in Yezid Sayigh and Avi Shlaim (eds), The Cold War and the Middle East, (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1997), pp. 256–57. 39 See Mcghee, The US–Turkish–NATO, pp. 104, 140–41. Meeting of 10 November with President Bayar, Prime Minister Menderes and Foreign Minister Köprülü. 40 Patrick Seale, The Struggle for Syria (London: Oxford University Press, 1966), p. 188. 41 Dulles to State Department, 26 May 1953, FRUS, 1952–1954, vol. IX, part I, p. 147. 42 Ayesha Jalal, ‘Towards the Baghdad Pact: South Asia and Middle East Defence in the Cold War 1947–55’, International History Review, vol. IX/3, (1989), pp. 409–33. 43 See Eveland, Ropes of Sand, p. 65. 44 Dulles post-tour notes, Dulles papers, the Seeley G. Mudd Manuscript Library, Princeton University; and Dulles to State Department, FRUS, 1952–1954, vol. IX, part I, p. 147 and W. Scott Lucas, Divided We Stand: Britain, the US and the Suez Crisis (London: Hodder & Stoughton, 1991), p. 29. 45 John D. Jernegan, deputy assistant Secretary of State for NE Affairs to Loy Henderson, US ambassador to Iraq, 9 November 1953, FRUS, 1952–1954, vol. IX, part I, pp. 424–45. On the British planners’ switch to a Northern Tier concept, Cf. Cohen, Fighting World War Three, pp. 298–307. 46 Cf. Intelligence report, NIE 30–54, 22 June 1954, in FRUS, 1952–1954, vol. IX, part I, p. 518; on the MEC and MEDO projects, cf. Cohen, Fighting World War Three, chapter 8 and pp. 292–97. 47 Ambassador Warren (Turkey) to State, 17 September 1953, FRUS, vol. IX, part I, p. 418; also Jalal, ‘Towards the Baghdad Pact’, p. 429. 48 Ibid., and Steven S. Freiberger, Dawn Over Suez: The Rise of American Power in the Middle East, 1953–1957 (Chicago: Ivan Dee, 1992), p. 87. 49 Dulles to embassy in Turkey, 24 December 1953, FRUS, 1952–1954, vol. IX, part I, p. 440. 50 Minutes of Eisenhower meeting with Dulles, Admiral Davis and Henry Byroade, Assistant Secretary of State for Middle East affairs, 14 January 1954 in ibid., p. 453; also, Lucas, Divided We Stand, p. 30. On US officials’ warnings of adverse reactions by India’s Nehru to American aid to Pakistan, cf. Byroade to Nash, Assistant

233

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51 52

53

54 55 56 57 58 59 60 61 62 63 64

65 66 67 68 69 70 71 72 73 74 75

Secretary of State for Defense, 15 October 1953, p. 422; and Mills, chargé in India to State Department, 19 October 1953, p. 423, FRUS, 1952–1954, vol. IX, pp. 421–23. On British objections, cf. Jalal, Towards the Baghdad Pact, pp. 426, ff. Acting Secretary of State to Dulles, (Berlin), 27 January 1954, FRUS, 1952–1954, vol. IX, part I, p. 473. The US awarded military aid under the so-called Mutual Defense Assistance Program (MDAP). Each recipient of aid was assigned its own Military Assistance Advisory Group (MAAG), commanded by an officer appointed by the JCS, to overlook the disbursal of the aid. Each MAAG recommended annual military aid budgets for its area. Byroade to Acting Secretary of State, 3 February 1954, FRUS, 1952–1954, vol. IX, part I, p. 479; also Elie Podeh, The Quest for Hegemony in the Arab World: The Struggle over the Baghdad pact (Leiden: E.J. Brill, 1995) p. 189; and Seale, The Struggle for Syria, pp. 491–92. Ambassador Burton, Iraq, to State Department, 5 April, 1954, FRUS, 1952–1954, Vol. IX, pp. 491–92. See Lucas, Divided We Stand, p. 31. See Eveland, Ropes of Stand, pp. 80–81. Ibid., p. 81. Ibid., p. 82. NSC 5428, ‘US Objectives and Policies with respect to the Near East’, 23 July 1954, in FRUS, 1952–1954, vol. IX, part 1, p. 526. Minute by P.S.D. Falla, Foreign Office, 18 June 1954, in FO 371/110822, PRO; and Jalal, Towards the Baghdad Pact, pp. 423, 429. Dulles to Lebanese embassy, 20 March 1954, in FRUS, 1952–1954, vol. IX, part I, p. 489; also NSC 5428, 23 July 1954, idem, p. 530; and position paper approved by Middle East Chiefs of Mission, 3 May 1954, idem, p. 511. Hooper to Fall, 24 February 1954, FO 371/111002, PRO. Richard L. Jasse, ‘The Baghdad Pact: Cold War or Colonialism?’, Middle Eastern Studies, vol. 27/1, (1991), p. 149. Cf. Seale, The Struggle for Syria, p. 201; and Elie Podeh, ‘The Cold War and the Middle East: The Western Quest for a Regional Defense Organization, 1945–1953’, Orient, 33/2 (1992), p. 271. On Nuri Said’s previous pan-Arab schemes, Cf. Michael J. Cohen, Palestine: Retreat from the Mandate, 1936–1945 (Paul Elek: London, 1978), pp. 144–50; and Yehoshua Porat, In Search of Arab Unity, 1930–1945 (London: Frank Cass, 1986). See Podeh, The Quest for Hegemony, p. 83. See Jasse, The Baghdad Pact’, pp. 145–46. Ireland to State Department, 22 August, 1954, FRUS, 1952–1954, vol. IX, part I, p. 541. FO to State Department, 1 September 1954, ibid., p. 546, note 6; and Ireland to State Department, 23 August 1954, idem, p. 544. Dulles–Byroade, 23 August 1954, FRUS, vol. IX, part I, p. 545; and Jernegan, NEA to Macarthur, 15 September 1954, 780.5/9-1554, box 4042, RG 59, NA. Dulles–Byroade, 23 August 1954, and Meyer, Egypt and the United States, p. 90. Minute by Paul S. Falla, Foreign Office, 25 September 1954, FO 371/111003, PRO. Cf. Dulles to US embassy, Iraq, 31 August 1954, FRUS, 1952–1954, vol. IX, part I, p. 547; and R. Seale, The Struggle for Syria, p. 205. Cf. Podeh, The Quest for Hegemony, pp. 87–90; Jasse, The Baghdad Pact, p. 147; and Jean Lacouture, Nasser (New York: Alfred Knopf, 1973), p. 155. See Bernard Lewis, The Shaping of the Modern Middle East (New York and Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1994), p. 8. Cf. minutes by Falla, 5 January 1955, FO 371/115484, and by John SterndaleBennett, British Middle East Office, Beirut, 2 February 1955, FO 371/115489, PRO.

234

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76 Position paper of US Chiefs of Mission, 14 May 1954, (conclusions of Istanbul conference, 11–14 May 1954), FRUS, 1952–1954, vol. IX, part I, p. 509; also, NSC 5428, ‘US Objectives and Policies in the Near East’, 23 July 1954, idem, pp. 525–35. 77 Intelligence estimate, NIE 30-54, 22 June 1954, p. 518. 78 Minutes by Falla, Sterndale-Bennett. 79 Cf. Hermann Frederick Eilts, ‘Reflections on the Suez Crisis: Security in the Middle East’, in William Roger Louis and Roger Owen (eds), Suez 1956: The Crisis and its Consequences (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1989), pp. 350–51; and Jasse, The Baghdad Pact, p. 149. 80 Minute by P.S. Falla, 5 January 1955, FO 371/115484. PRO. 81 See Eilts, ‘Reflections on Suez Crisis; Jasse, The Baghdad Pact, p. 150; and Podeh, The Quest for Hegemony, pp. 102–04. 82 See Podeh, The Quest for Hegemony, pp. 104–111, and Jasse The Baghdad Pact, p. 151. 83 Quote from press conference in Sir R. Makins (Washington) – Foreign Office, 19 January 1955, FO 371/115485, PRO. 84 Minute by Evelyn Shuckburgh, Assistant Secretary of State, Middle East, on meeting with Evan Wilson of US embassy, London, 11 January 1955, FO 371/115484, PRO. 6 THE FORMATION OF THE BAGHDAD PACT 1 Wilbur C. Eveland, Ropes of Sand: America’s Failure in the Middle East (New York: W.W. Norton, 1980), p. 263. 2 Cf. Nigel John Ashton, ‘The Hijacking of a Pact: The Formation of the Baghdad Pact and Anglo-American Tensions in the Middle East, 1955–58’, Review of International Studies, vol. 19, (1993), pp. 130–31; W. Scott Lucas, Divided We Stand: Britain, the US and the Suez Crisis, (London: Hodder & Stoughton, 1991), p. 41; and Elie Podeh, The Quest for Hegemony in the Arab World: The Struggle over the Baghdad Pact, (Leiden, New York: E.J. Brill, 1995), p. 103. 3 R.C. Jasse, ‘The Baghdad Pact: Cold War or Colonialism’, Middle Eastern Studies, vol. 27, (1991), pp. 152–53. 4 Sir M. Wright to FO, 22 February 1955, FO 371/115751, PRO; and ibid., p. 153; Lucas, Divided We Stand, p. 42. 5 See Lucas, Divided We Stand p. 45; and Podeh, The Quest for Hegemony, p. 125. 6 Patrick Seale, The Struggle for Syria (Oxford University Press, London: 1966), p. 228. 7 Jean Lacoutre, Nasser (New York: Alfred A. Knopf, 1973), p. 154. 8 Cf. Sir Ralph Stevenson (ambassador to Cairo) to Foreign Office, 10 February 1955, V1073/212, FO 371/115489, PRO; and P.J. Vatikiotis, Nasser and His Generation (London: Croom Helm, 1978), pp. 230–31. 9 John Sterndale Bennett, Development Division, British Middle East Office, to Shuckburgh, 2 February 1955, FO 371/115489, PRO. 10 Harold MacMillan, The Tides of Fortune, 1945–1955 (New York: Harper & Row, 1969), p. 633. MacMillan replaced Eden as Foreign Secretary in April 1955, when the latter became Prime Minister, upon Churchill’s retirement. 11 See Lucas, Divided We Stand, p. 133. 12 Meeting between Dulles and Sharett, 31 October 1955, in Foreign Relations of the United States (FRUS), 1955–1957, vol. XIV, (Washington DC: US Government Printing Office, 1989), p. 683; see also Nigel John Ashton, Eisenhower, MacMillan and the Problem of Nasser (London and New York: MacMillan and St.Martin’s, 1996), pp. 46, 77, 210. 13 Report of State/Defense/JCS Working Group on US Strategic concept on Middle East Defense, 6 June 1955, RG 59, 780.5/6-655; and John D. Jernegan to Acting Secretary of State, 21 June 1955, RG 59, 780.5/6-2155, box 3706, NA; COS (55) 60,

235

NOTES

14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28

29

30

31 32 33 34 35 36 37 38 39 40

23 March 1955, in Defe 5/57, PRO; also Kenneth W. Condit, The History of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, vol. VI: The Joint Chiefs of Staff and National Policy, 1955–1956 (Washington, DC: State Department Historical Office, Joint Staff, 1992), p. 155. Bennett to Shuckburgh, 2 February 1955. See Podeh, The Quest for Hegemony, p. 249. Beeley to Shuckburgh, 24 March 1955, FO 371/121282, PRO. See Lacoutre, Nasser, p. 156. See Podeh, The Quest for Hegemony, p. 142. Foreign Office to Washington, 31 March 1955, FO 371/121282, PRO. Brief for Shuckburgh visit to Washington, 18 January 1955, FO 371/115583; and minute by E.M. Rose, 12 March 1955, FO 371/115753, PRO. Ibid. Troutbeck letter quoted in brief by Major Somerville, 26 May 1955, FO 371/115585, PRO. See Seale, The Struggle for Syna, p. 147. E.M. Rose, minute, 12 March 1955, FO 371/115753, PRO. Ibid., 13 and 14 March. Makins (Washington, DC), to Foreign Office, 27 June 1955, FRO 371/115585, PRO. Foreign Office to Makins (Washington, DC), 1 July 1955, FRO 371/115585, PRO. E.M. Rose, minute, 21 October 1955, FO 371/115589, PRO; and memorandum, Dillon Anderson, special assistant to the President, 26 July 1955, Office of the Staff Secretary, Department of Defense sub-series, box 6, Military Planning, 1954–55(3), The Eisenhower Library (EL). Memorandum of Dulles – Eisenhower conversation, 5 August 1955, in Dulles papers, 1951–59, Subject series, box 1, Alpha speech (1), EL; also, Magnus Persson, Great Britain, the U.S. and the Security of the Middle East: The Formation of the Baghdad Pact (Lund: Lund University Press, 1998), pp. 270–71. Cf. Sir R. Makins (Washington) – Foreign Office, 16 August, and reply, 20 August 1955, in FO 371/115586, PRO; correspondence between Eden and Eisenhower, July– August 1955, in Eden File, April–December 1955, (Anne Whitman file), International series, box 21, EL; also, Jasse, The Baghdad Pact, p. 142; and MacMillan, Tides of Fortune, p. 632. E.M. Rose, minute, 21 October 1955, FO 371/115589. PRO; and Persson, Great Britain, p. 272. Eisenhower to Eden, 5 March 1956, Eisenhower papers as President of the US, 1953–61, (Ann Whitman file) International Series, box 21, Eden file, January–June 1956, EL. See Eveland, Ropes of Sand, pp. 67–68. See Persson, Great Britain the U.S., p. 83. NSC 5510/1, 28 February 1955. See Condit, History of the Joint Chiefs, p. 155. Report of State/Defense/JCS Working Group on US Strategic Concept on Middle East Defense, 6 June 1955, 780.5/6-655, box 3706, RG 59, NA. A.C. Symon, High Commissioner, Pakistan – Commonwealth Relations Office, 1 July 1955, FO 371/115515; and E.M. Rose, minute, 27 July 1955, FO 371/115516, PRO. See Bruce Kuniholm, The Origins of the Cold War in the Near East: Great Power Conflict and Diplomacy in Iran, Turkey, and Greece (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1980), pp. 140–202. Cf. William Roger Louis, The British Empire in the Middle East, 1945–1951, (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1984), pp. 686–89; Sir Anthony Eden, Full Circle: The Memoirs of Sir Anthony Eden (London: Cassell, 1960), pp. 225–26; Michael J. Cohen, Fighting World War Three from the Middle East: Allied Contingency Plans,

236

NOTES

41

42 43 44 45 46 47 48 49 50 51 52 53 54 55 56 57 58 59 60 61 62 63 64 65 66 67

1945–1954 (London: Frank Cass, 1997), p. 284; and Shahram Chubin, ‘Iran’, in Yezid Sayigh and Avi Shlaim (eds). The Cold War and the Middle East (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1997), p. 222. See Seale, The Struggle for Syria, p. 188; Miles Copeland, The Game of Nations: The Amorality of Power Politics (London: Weidenfeld & Nicolson, 1969), p. 51; and Eveland Ropes of Sand, p. 356. Eveland claims that Allen Dulles, head of the CIA, and his Middle East operative, Kermit Roosevelt, hatched Operation Ajax behind Truman’s back, and persuaded President Eisenhower to give his assent. See Chubin, Iran, pp. 237–39. Henderson to State Department, 3 December 1953, FRUS, 1952–54, vol. IX, part 1, (Washington, DC: US Government Printing Office, 1989), p. 437. See Eveland, Ropes of Sand, pp. 87–89. See Chubin, Iran, p. 230. Minute by Evelyn Shuckburgh, 10 May 1955, FO 371/115511, PRO. 119th meeting of JCS, 1 October 1954, lot file 61 D 417, box 51, RG 59; Robert R. Bowie (director of the PPS) to Under-Secretary of State Hoover, 11 January 1955, PPS lot file 61 D 167, box 35, NA. See Chubin, Iran, pp. 231–33. State – JCS meeting of 9 July 1954, RG 59, lot file 61 D 417, box 51; see also, Joseph Palmer 2nd to G. Frederick Reinhardt (US Embassy, Paris), 26 February 1955, RG 59 780.5/2-2655, box 3706, NA. Bowie to Hoover, 11 January 1955; and minute by Shuckburgh, 10 May 1955. Minute by Shuckburgh and Annex to JP (55) 102, 7 October 1955, in Defe 6/13, PRO. Jernegan to acting secretary of state, 21 June 1955, 780.5/6-2155, box 3706, NA; and minute by Shuckburgh, 10 May, ibid. Sir R. Stevens (Teheran) – Foreign Office, 15 March 1955, FO 371/115498, PRO. R.A. Beaumont (Baghdad) to E.M. Rose, Foreign Office, 23 August 1955, in FO 371/115519, PRO. Annex to JP (55) 102; and annex to COS (55) 261, 12 October 1955, in Defe 5/61, PRO. This was not a novel dilemma for the British, who in 1948 had planned their final defensive line in the Middle East on the Ramallah line, which would have ceded the northern-half of Israel to the enemy. Cf. Cohen, Fighting World War Three, p. 167. Joseph Palmer 2nd to G. Frederick Reinhardt (US embassy, Paris) 26 February 1955, RG 59, 780.5/2-2655, box 3706, NA. JCS to Secretary of State for Defense, 16 June 1955, in FRUS, 1955–57, vol. XII, p. 72. E.M. Rose, minute, 9 July 1955, FO 371/1115515, PRO. Churchill’s speech to Commons, 24 March 1936, in H.C. Deb. 5th series, vol. 310, col. 114. On the Arab Legion, cf. John Bagot Glubb, The Story of the Arab Legion (London: Hodder & Stoughton, 1950), especially pp. 63–64, 185, 197, 238. Michael B. Oren, ‘A Winter of Discontent: Britain’s Crisis in Jordan, December 1955 – March 1956’, International Journal of Middle East Studies, vol. 22/2, 1990, p. 178. E.M. Rose, minute, 29 March 1955, FO 371/115500. PRO; and Foreign Office minute of 14 April 1954, FO 371/110924, quoted in Uriel Dann, ‘The Foreign Office the Baghdad Pact and Jordan’, Asian and African Studies, vol. 21/3, (1987), pp. 250–51. See Dann, ‘The Foreign Office’, pp. 250–51. Ibid., p. 250. E.M. Rose, minute, 18 November 1955, FO 371/115654; Glubb’s views in Duke to Shuckburgh, 10 November 1955, in FO 371/115653, PRO. See Dann, ‘The Foreign Office’, p. 256. See Podeh, The Quest for Hegemony, pp. 172–74; and Uriel Dann, King Hussein and the Challenge of Arab Radicalism: Jordan, 1955–1967, (New York: Oxford University Press, 1989), p. 25.

237

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68 See Podeh, The Quest for Hegemony, p. 174. 69 Ibid., pp. 173, 176; Dann, King Hussein, p. 26; and Robert B. Satloff, From Abdullah to Hussein: Jordan in Transition, (New York and Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1994), p. 114. 70 See Dann, King Hussein, p. 26; and MacMillan, Tides of Fortune, p. 656. 71 See Dann, ‘The Foreign Office’, p. 252; and Podeh, The Quest for Hegemony, pp. 175–79. 72 Duke to FO, 6 November 1955, FO 371/115527, PRO. 73 Ibid. 74 Duke to Shuckburgh, 10 November 1955, FO 371/115653, PRO. 75 E.M. Rose, minute, 18 November 1955, FO 371/115654; and U. Dann, ‘The Foreign Office’, p. 253. The final decision on the Vampires was taken after Prime Minister Eden asked if they would upset the balance of arms in the Middle East. He was informed that Jordan had no fighter aircraft, but two Vampire trainers; Israel was estimated at the time to have 64 fighters and 21 bombers. 76 Meeting, 2 December 1955, in Cab 131/16, PRO, quoted in M. Persson, Great Britain, the U.S., pp. 276–77; also Podeh, The Quest for Hegemony, p. 178; and Lucas, Divided We Stand, p. 75. 77 See Dann, ‘The Foreign Office’, p. 254. 78 Cf. minute by J.F. Brevis, 23 July 1954, in FO 371/110831, PRO. 79 The Arab Legion already had one infantry division, comprising three brigades; so this increment would have meant an increase of 25 percent, cf. John Bagot Glubb, A Soldier with the Arabs (London: Hodder & Stoughton, 1957), p. 393. 80 Brief for Gen Templer, 3 December 1955, FO 371/115655, PRO. 81 Diaries of Evelyn Shuckburgh, Descent to Suez, selected for publication by John Charmley (London: Weidenfeld & Nicolson, 1986), p. 298. 82 Cf. minutes of NSC meeting, 28 June 1956, in Ann Whitman file, box 6, EL; also Douglas Little, ‘A Puppet in Search of a Puppeteer? The United States, King Hussein, and Jordan, 1953–70’, International History Review, XVII, 34, (August 1995), p. 519. 83 Cf. Ashton, Eisenhower, MacMillan, pp. 64–67; Richard Lamb, The Failure of the Eden Government, (London: Sigdwick & Jackson, 1987), p. 187; Lucas, Divided we Stand, pp. 68, 76; Peter L. Hahn, The United States, Great Britain and Egypt, 1945–1956, (Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 1991), p. 208; and Persson, Great Britain the U.S., p. 276. 84 See Hahn, United States, Great Britain, Egypt, p.198; Robert Satloff, From Abdullah to Hussein: Jordan in Transition (New York: Oxford University Press, 1994), p. 116; Dann, King Hussein, p. 27. 85 The Templer mission is described in detail by Podeh, The Quest for Hegemony, pp. 183–89. 86 See Satloff, From Abdullah to Hussein, pp. 119–20; and Dann, ‘The Foreign Office’, p. 259. 87 CIGS Gen Templer to FO, 10 December 1955, FO 371/115656, PRO. 88 See Glubb, A Soldier, pp. 398–400. 89 See Podeh, The Quest for Hegemony, pp. 183–89; W.S. Lucas, Divided We Stand, p. 76, and Dann, King Hussein, pp. 27–29; and Dann, ‘The Foreign Office’, p. 261. 90 See Satloff, From Abdullah to Hussein, pp. 116–18, 124. 91 Cf. Oren, ‘A Winter of Discontent: Britain’s Crisis in Jordan, December 1955– March 1956’, International Journal of Middle East Studies, vol. XXII/2 (1990), pp. 171–84. 92 Humphrey Trevelyan, The Middle East in Revolution (London: MacMillan, 1970), p. 58. 93 Gen Templer’s report on the failure of his mission, 16 December 1955, FO 371/115658, PRO.

238

NOTES

94 95 96 97 98 99

100 101 102 103 104 105 106 107 108 109 110 111

See Dann, King Hussein, p. 27. See Dann, ‘The Foreign Office’, p. 256. See Ashton, Eisenhower, MacMillan, pp. 67–68. See Dann, ‘The Foreign Office’, p. 248; and Mohammed Hassanein Heikal, The Cairo Documents (New York: Doubleday, 1973), p. 79. Meetings of NSC, 22 December 1955 and 12 January 1956, in Ann Whitman file, Eisenhower papers, 1953–61, box 7, EL. Allen Dulles (Director of the CIA) told the NSC that the failed Templer mission had dealt ‘a severe blow to the British and, to some extent, to Western prestige’. Ibid., NSC meeting, 22 December 1955; also Hahn, United States, Great Britain, Egypt, p. 198; and Little, ‘A Puppet in search’, pp. 512–44. GHQ, ME to Ministry of Defence, 28 March 1956, in Air 8/1896; and COS (56) 169, 25 April 1956, Defe 5/67, PRO. Annex to JP (56) 76, 16 May 1956, in Defe 6/35, and brief by ACAS for CAS and for Secretary of State for Air, 1 May 1956, in Air 8/1896, PRO. Brief by ACAS, ibid., and COS (56) 169. COS (56) 169. Duke (Amman) to Foreign Secretary Lloyd, 30 August 1956, reporting on 10th meeting of the Anglo-Jordanian Joint Defence Board, 23–24 July 1956, in FO 371/121534, PRO. Ibid. Minute, by P.C. Holmer, 8 August 1956, in FO 371/121534, PRO. Cf. COS (56) 374, 9 October 1956, in Defe 5/71; and annex to JP (56) 161; 10 October 1956, in Defe 6/37, PRO; also Dann, King Hussein, p. 43. COS (56) 374, and JP (56) 161; also Dann, King Hussein, p. 72; Satloff, From Abdullah to Hussein, pp. 157–58; and Hahn, United States, Great Britain, Egypt, p. 240. See Satloff, From Abdullah to Hussein, p. 159. Ibid., pp. 160–171. Ibid., pp. 171–73; Dann, King Hussein, p. 65; Little, ‘A Puppet in Search’ pp. 512–44; and David W. Lesch, Syria and the United States (Boulder, CO: Westview Press, 1992), p. 114.

7 ANGLO-AMERICAN-TURKISH STAFF PLANNING, 1955 TO 1956 1 Bernard Brodie, Strategy in the Missile Age (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1959), p. 406. 2 See Marc Trachtenberg, A Constructed Peace: The Making of the European Settlement, 1945–1963 (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1999), p. 216. 3 Ministry of Defence to British Joint Staff Mission (BJSM), Washington DC, 12 January 1954, in annex to JP (54) 10, in Defe 11/88, PRO. 4 Ibid. 5 Ibid; and minute by H.A.F. Hohler, 23 January 1956, in FO 371/121270, PRO. 6 Sir John Troutbeck to Shuckburgh, 2 June 1954, FO 371/110822, PRO. 7 Minute by P.S. Falla, 18 June 1954, FO 371/110822, PRO. 8 See COS (53) 316, 1 July 1953, Defe 5/47, PRO. 9 NSC 155/1, 29 July 1954, (approved by the President on 11 July) in Foreign Relations of the United States (FRUS), 1952–1954, The Near and Middle East, vol. IX, part 1, (Washington, DC: US Government Printing Office, 1986), pp. 537–38. 10 Review in JCS 1887/424, 20 December 1957, in CCS 381 (EMMEA) (11-19-47), section 66, box 7; minutes of meeting of State Department representatives with JCS, 9 July 1954, lot file 61 D 417, box 51, RG 59, US National Archives (NA); minute

239

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11 12 13 14

15 16 17

18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32

33 34 35 36 37

by P.S. Falla, 21 September 1954, in FO 371/110823, PRO; also Kenneth W. Condit, History of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, vol. VI: The Joint Chiefs of Staff and National Policy, 1955–1956, (Washington, DC: Historical Office, Joint Staff, 1992), pp. 152–53. Minutes by P.S. Falla, and J.G. Ward, 21 September 1954, FO 371/110823, PRO and 119th meeting of JCS and State Department officials, 1 October 1954, lot file 61 D 417, box 51, RG 59, NA. See annex to COS (56) 20, 13 January 1956, in Defe 5/64, PRO. Note by Vice Chief of the Air Staff, 10 January 1955, in Defe 11/117, PRO. JSPC 883/66, 22 October 1954, RG 218, JCS Geographic Files, CCS EMMEA (11-19-47), box 12; and Foy D. Kohler (US embassy, London), forwarding Admiral Cassady’s report to the State Department on the London talks, 3 March 1955, 780.5/3-355, box 3706, RG 59, NA. Ibid., and COS (55) 43, 25 February 1955, Defe 5/56, PRO. JSPC 883/66. Cf. editorial note, FRUS, 1955–1957, Near East Region: Iran; Iraq, vol. XII (Washington DC: US Government Printing Office, 1991), p. 8. The US reports on the talks were not published in the FRUS volume; see also, K.W. Condit, History of the Joint Chiefs, vol. IV, p. 152. Annex to JP (55) 155, 20 December 1955, in Defe 6/32, PRO. Report by Foy D. Kohler (US embassy, London) to William O. Baxter, State Department, 3 March 1955, in RG 59, 780.5/3-355, box 3706, NA; also JP (55) 155, 20 December 1955, in Defe 6/32, PRO. Robert Murphy (Deputy Under-Secretary of State) to Dulles, 22 April 1955, in FRUS, 1955–57, vol. XII, pp. 51–53. Report by Foy D. Kohler, in RG 59, 780.5/3-355, box 3706, NA; also COS (55) 9, 13 January 1955, in Defe 5/56; and JP (55) 156, 21 December 1955, in Defe 6/32, PRO. Report of State/Defense/JCS Working group on ‘US Strategic Concept on Middle East Defense’, 6 June 1955, RG 59, 780.5/6-655, box 3706, NA; printed in FRUS, 1955–57, vol. XII, pp. 65–69. COS (55) 49, 4 March 1955, in Defe 5/57; JP (55) 155, 20 December 1955, in Defe 6/32; and JP (56) 3, 18 January 1956, in Defe 6/34, PRO. JP (55) 155; and annex to JP (55) 139 (Final), 10 November 1955, in Defe 6/32, PRO. Ibid., and Condit, History of the Joint Chiefs, pp. 153–54. JP (55) 155. JP (55) 139 and JP (55) 74, 25 June 1955, in Defe 6/30, PRO. Ibid. Annex to JP (55) 155. COS (55) 49; and Condit, History of the Joint Chiefs, pp. 153–54. Annex to JP (55) 155. Foy D. Kohler (US embassy, London) to William O. Baxter (State Department), forwarding Admiral Cassady’s report on the London tripartite talks, 3 March 1955, 780.5/3-355, RG 59, box 3706; and report of State/Defense/JCS Working Group on ‘US Strategic Concept on Middle East Defense’, 6 June 1955, 780.5/6-655, box 3706, RG 59, NA. Note by the VCAS, 10 January 1955. Annex to COS (55) 60, 23 March 1955, in Defe 5/57, PRO. See Condit, History of the Joint Chiefs, p. 152. Cassady report; also John Kent (ed.), Egypt and the Defence of the Middle East, Part 1, 1945–1949 (London: The Stationery Office, 1998), pp. lxxxvii–viii. Cassady report, ibid; also COS (55) 43, 25 February 1955, in Defe 5/56; and COS (55) 49, 4 March 1955 and COS (55) 60, 23 March 1955, both in Defe 5/57, PRO.

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38 COS (55) 49, ibid., and JP (55) 155; on British air forces available in the Middle East, see also Michael J. Cohen, Fighting World War Three from the Middle East: Allied Contingency Plans, 1945–1954 (London: Frank Cass, 1997), pp. 89–93. 39 Ibid. 40 COS (55) 9, 13 January 1955, in Defe 5/56, PRO. 41 COS (55) 43, 25 February 1955, in Defe 5/56; and COS (55) 60, 23 March 1955, in Defe 5/57, PRO. 42 JP (55) 155. 43 Ibid., and COS (55) 43. 44 Annex to COS (55) 60, 23 March 1955, in Defe 5/57, PRO; and JCS report on London staff talks, in JSPC 883/78, 11 August 1978, Geographic file, 1954–56, section 12, CCS 381, section 22, box 12, RG 218, NA. 45 JCS report, in JSPC 883/78, 1954–56. 46 JP (55) 155. 47 Ibid. 48 Memorandum by ACAS (operations), 20 April 1955, in Air 8/2043; COS (55) 49, 4 March 1955; in Defe 5/57; and annex to COS (55) 60, 23 March 1955, in Defe 5/57, PRO. 49 ACAS memorandum, in Air 8/2043; also CNO–JCS, 14 February 1955, RG 218, JCS Geographic file, 1954–56, CCS 381, EMMEA (11-19-47), box 12, NA. 50 Note by VCAS, 10 January 1955, in Defe 11/117; COS (55) 49; and annex to JP (55) 74, 25 August 1955, in Defe 6/30, PRO. 51 Annex to COS (60) 9th meeting, 4 February, in Defe 32/6, PRO. 52 COS (55) 49. 53 Ibid., annex to COS (55) 60, and JP (54) 105, 10 January 1955, in Defe 6/26, PRO. 54 Annex to COS (55) 60; and brief by ACAS (Operations), 20 April 1955, in Air 8/2043, PRO. 55 State – JCS meeting, 15 April 1955, RG 59, Lot File 61 D417, box 51, NA. 56 271st meeting of COS, 20 April 1955, in FO 371/115585, PRO. 57 State – JCS meeting, 15 April 1955, RG 59, Lot File 61 D417, box 51, NA. 58 Ibid. 59 Ibid. 60 Ibid. 61 Deputy Under-Secretary of State Robert Murphy to Dulles, 22 April 1955, in FRUS, 1955–57, vol. XII, pp. 51–53; and State Department memorandum, 5 May 1955, in 780.5/5-555, box 3706, NA. 62 Minutes of 247th meeting of NSC, 5 May 1955, in Ann Whitman file, Eisenhower Papers, 1953–61, EL; reprinted in FRUS, vol. XII, p. 54. 63 JCS to Secretary for Defense, 16 June 1955, FRUS, vol. XII, p. 74. 64 JP (55) 109, 12 October 1955, in Defe 6/31, PRO. 65 JP (55) 74, 25 August 1955, in Defe 6/30, PRO. 66 Ibid., and note by VCAS, 10 January 1955. 67 Ibid.

8 BAGHDAD PACT PLANNING, 1955 TO 1956 1 In telephone conversation with Secretary of State Dulles, 15 July 1958, cited in Foreign Relations of the United States (FRUS), 1958–60 vol. XII (US Government Printing Office, Washington, DC: 1993), p. 321. 2 See note by H.A.F. Hohler, 23 January 1956, in FO 371/121270, PRO. 3 Humphrey Trevelyan, The Middle East in Revolution (London: MacMillan, 1970), p. 13.

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4 See JP (56) note 2 (Revise), 14 February 1956, in Defe 6/39, PRO. 5 On the Abadan crisis of 1951 and its effect on the Egyptian decision to abrogate unilaterally their treaty with the UK, see Michael J. Cohen, Fighting World War Three from the Middle East: Allied Contingency Plans, 1945–1954, (London: Frank Cass, 1997), p. 226. 6 JP (56) note 2 (Revise), 14 February, 1956. 7 Harold MacMillan to Anthony Eden, 25 November 1955, in FO 371/115532, PRO. MacMillan served as Foreign Secretary until December 1955, and thereafter as Chancellor of the Exchequer, until January 1957, when he succeeded Eden as Prime Minister. 8 Memorandum by G.G. Arthur, 7 January 1956, in FO 371/121271, PRO. 9 JP (56) note 2. 10 Minutes on Middle East strategy, February 1956, in FO 371/121370, PRO. 11 Ibid., and JP (56) note 2. 12 JP (56) note 2. 13 COS (56) 232, 15 June 1956, in Defe 5/69, circulated to Cabinet as D.C. (56) 17, 3 July 1956, in Cab 131/17, PRO. 14 Ibid. 15 Ibid., and COS (56) 306, 13 August 1956, in Defe 5/70, also in Air 8/2052, PRO. 16 COS (56) 232. 17 Ibid. 18 Ibid. 19 Annex to DP 77/66 (Final), 29 November 1966, in Defe 6/101, PRO. 20 COS (56) 224, 8 June 1956, in Defe 5/68; and COS (56) 261, 6 July, 1956, in Defe 5/69, PRO. 21 COS (56) 261. 22 Annex to JP (56) 113, 6 July 1956, in Defe 6/36; and COS (56) 270, 13 July 1956, PRO. 23 Annex to JP (56) 8, 12 January 1956, in Defe 6/34, PRO; and Simon J. Ball, The Bomber in British Strategy: Doctrine, Strategy and Britain’s World Role, 1945–1960 (Boulder, CO: Westview Press, 1995), p. 112. 24 Radford memorandum to JCS, 7 February 1956, RG 218 JCS Geographic file, 1954–56, CCS 381 EMMEA (11-19-47) section 26, box 13, NA. 25 Cf. JP (56) 82, 9 April 1956, in FO 371/121277, COS (56) 224, 8 June 1956, in Defe 5/68; and COS (56) 261, 6 July 1956, in Defe 5/69, PRO. 26 Annex to JP (56) 10, 18 January 1956. 27 Meeting between State Department officials and Deputy Secretary of State for Defense Anderson, and chairman of the JCS, Admiral Radford, 30 June 1955, PPS files 1955, Lot file 60 D 70, box 98; JSPC 883/78, 11 August 1955, RG 218, Geographic file, 1954–56, section 12, CCS 381; and memorandum of 9 January 1957, CCS 381 EMMEA (11-19-47) section 53, box 4, NA. 28 Radford memorandum to JCS, 7 February 1956, RG 218 JCS Geographic file, 1954–56, CCS 381 EMMEA (11-19-47) section 26, box 13, NA. 29 Annex to JP (56) 10. 30 Cf. JCS 1887/286, 18 October 1956, in CCS 381 EMMEA (11-19-47) section 46, box 15, NA. 31 See Ball, The Bomber in British Strategy, pp. 178–79. 32 Foreign Office to embassy in Ankara, 18 January 1956, in FO 371/121275, PRO. 33 Meeting between State Department officials and Deputy Secretary of State for Defense Anderson, and chairman of the JCS, Admiral Radford, 30 June 1955, PPS files 1955, Lot file 60 D 70, box 98, JSPC 883/78, 11 August 1955, RG 218, Geographic file, 1954–56, section 12, CCS 381; also memorandum of 9 January 1957, CCS 381 EMMEA (11-19-47) section 53, box 4, NA.

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34 COS (56) 261; and JCS 1887/183, 20 April 1956, CCS 381 EMMEA (11-19-47), section 32, box 13; and JCS 1887/286, CCS 381 EMMEA (11-19-47) section 46, box 15, NA. 35 COS (56) 261. 36 Ibid. 37 Brief for CIGS for Baghdad Pact conference, note 23, 17 November 1955, in Defe 6/33; and JP (56) 10, 18 January 1956, in Defe 6/34, PRO. 38 Ibid., and JP (56) note 2. 39 JP (56) 10. 40 Minute by D.J. Speares, 9 December 1955, in FO 371/115533, PRO; also W.J. Gallman (US ambassador, Baghdad) to Department of State, 28 November 1955, RG 59, 780.5/11-2855, box 3707, NA; also Kenneth W. Condit, History of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, The Joint Chiefs of Staff and National Policy, 1955–1956 vol. VI (Washington, DC: Historical Office, Joint Staff, 1992), p. 157; and Waldemar J. Gallman, Iraq Under General Nuri: My Recollections of Nuri al-Said, 1954–1958 (Baltimore: The Johns Hopkins Press, 1964), pp. 66–67. 41 MacMillan report, 25 November 1955, FO 371/115532, PRO; and Gallman to State Department, ibid. 42 Admiral J.H. Cassady, CINCELM, to CNO, 30 November 1955, CCS EMMEA (11-19-47), section 25, RG 218 JCS Geographic file, 1945–56, box 13, NA. 43 FRUS, 1955–1957, vol. XII, (Washington DC: US Government Printing Office, 1991), pp. 285–86. 44 Air Vice Marshal Stephenson (Baghdad) to COS, 27 January 1956, in FO 371/121276, PRO. 45 JP (56) 82, 9 April 1956. 46 Admiral Cassady report on Baghdad Pact council meeting, 27 April 1956, in JCS 1887/200, CCS 381 EMMEA (11-19-47), section 35, box 14, NA. 47 USARMA (Baghdad) to Department of the Army, Washington DC, 14 February 1956, CCS 381, EMMEA (11-19-47), section 26, box 13, in RG 218, JCS Geographic files, 1954–56; also report by Joint Military Planning Committee to JCS, 20 April 1956, JCS 1887/183, CCS 381 EMMEA (11-19-47), section 32, box 13, NA; and Condit, History of the Joint Chiefs, vol. VI, p. 158. 48 Adm. J.H. Cassady (CINCELM) to CNO, 30 November 1955, CCS EMMEA (11-19-47), section 25, RG 218, JCS Geographic, 1954–56, box 13, NA. 49 Ibid. 50 For British views, cf. Foreign Secretary Lloyd to Prime Minister Eden, 3 February 1956, FO 371/121276; annex to COS (56) 166, 25 April 1956, in FO 371/121277; and annex to COS (56) 238, 16 June 1956, in FO 371/121278, PRO; for American views, cf. Colonel Henry P. Tucker, US Military attaché, Baghdad to Department of the Army, 22 January 1956; and USARMA, Baghdad to Department of the Army, Washington DC, 6 February 1956, RG 218, JCS Geographic Files, CCS 381 EMMEA (11-19-47), section 26, box 13; Report by Joint Military Planning Committee to JCS, annex II to BP/MIDMIL/MP/56/1, 20 April 1956, JCS 1887/183, CCS 381 EMMEA (11-19-47), section 32, box 13, NA; also Condit, History of the Joint Chiefs, vol. VI, p. 158. 51 USARMA, Baghdad to Department of the Army, Washington DC, 14 February 1956, RG 218, JCS Geographic Files, CCS 381 EMMEA (11-19-47), section 26, box 13, NA. 52 Annex to JP (56) 171, 25 October 1956, in Defe 6/37, PRO. 53 Brief for CIGS for Baghdad Pact conference, note 23, 17 November 1955, in Defe 6/33. 54 Col. Henry to Department of the Army, Washington, DC, 24 January 1956, CCS 381 EMMEA (11-19-47) section 26, box 13, NA; and annex II to BP/MIDMIL/MP/56/1, 20 April 1956.

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55 Annex to COS (56) 238; and Condit, History of the Joint Chiefs, vol. VI, p. 162. 56 Col. Henry to Department of the Army, 24 January 1956 and annex II to BP/ MIDMIL/MP/56/1. 57 Annex to COS (56) 238; and Air Vice-Marshal Stephenson (Baghdad) to COS, 27 January 1956, FO 371/121276, PRO; and Col. Henry to Department of the Army, 24 January 1956; and Admiral Cassady report, 27 April 1956. 58 DCC (56) 15, 1 August 1956, annex to COS (56) 306, 13 August 1956, in Defe 5/70; also, Air 8/2052, PRO. 59 JP (56) 112, 6 July 1956, and JP (56) 113 (Final), 6 July 1956, in Defe 5/36, PRO. 60 Annex II to BP/MIDMIL/MP/56/1, 20 April 1956; and Condit, History of the Joint Chiefs, vol. VI, p. 158. 61 Report by Admiral Cassady (Teheran) to State Department, 19 April 1956, in FRUS, 1955–1957, vol. XII, p. 293. 62 JP (56) 82. 63 John Kent (ed.), British Documents on the End of Empire, Series B, vol. 4: Egypt and the Defence of the Middle East, part I, 1945–1949 (London: The Stationery Office, 1998), p. 1XXXViii. 64 R.G.K. Way to Sir Richard Powell, 1 July 1957, in Defe 7/1197, PRO. 65 Ibid. 66 Discussion in ibid, and also in Defe 7/1199, PRO. 67 See Ball, The Bomber in British Strategy, p. 13. 68 Ibid., p. 178; and idem, ‘Bomber Bases and British Strategy in the Middle East, 1945–1949’, Journal of Strategic Studies, vol. 14/4, (December 1991), p. 530. 69 JP (56) note 2 (Revise), 14 February 1956, in Defe 6/39; and COS (56) 55, 31 May 1956, in FO 371/121258, PRO. 70 Annex to JP (56) 8 (Final), 12 January 1956, in Defe 6/34; approved by COS at meeting of 13 January, COS (56) 20, Defe 5/64, PRO. The latter document is reproduced in J. Kent (ed.), Egypt, part. III, pp. 479–80. 71 COS (56) 232, 15 June 1956, in Defe 5/69, circulated to Cabinet by Minister for Defence as D.C. (56) 17, 3 July 1956, in Cab 131/17, PRO. 72 Annex to COS (56) 270, 13 July 1956, in Defe 5/69, PRO. 73 Annex to JP (56) 97 (Final), 25 May 1956, in Defe 6/35, PRO. 74 Ibid., and annex to JP (56) 270. 75 COS (56) 232. 76 Annex to JP (56) 97; and COS (56) 270. 77 COS (56) 232. 78 Annex to COS (56) 20, 13 January 1956, in Defe 5/64, JP (56) 82; and annex to COS (56) 166, 25 April 1956, in FO 371/121277, PRO. 79 COS (56) 306, 13 August 1956, in Defe 5/70, and in Air 8/2052, PRO. 80 JP (56) 82; and JP (56) 112, 113, 6 July 1956, in Defe 6/36, PRO. 81 JP (56) 112, 113. 82 JP (56) 97; COS (56) 270; and COS (56) 306. 83 Annex to COS (56) 166. 84 COS (56) 306, 13 August 1956. 85 Annex to JP (56) 97. 9 ALLIED INTERVENTION IN A MIDDLE EAST WAR, 1955 TO 1956 1 Eisenhower quoted in Sunday Times, 5 January 2003. 2 Cf. Benny Morris, Israel’s Border Wars: 1949–1956: Arab Infiltration, Israeli Retaliation, and the Countdown to the Suez War (Clarendon Press: Oxford, 1993); and Martin Van Creveld, The Sword and the Olive (New York: Public Affairs, 1998), p. 129.

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3 Private memorandum by Sir John Slessor, January 1957, in Air 75/100, PRO. 4 JIC (54) 38, 21 May 1954, in Cab 158/17 part II, PRO. 5 Cf. COS instructions to British Defence Coordinating Committee, Middle East (BDCC, ME), January 1954, in JP (54) 22 March 1954, in Defe 6/25, PRO; also, annex to JP (55) 31, 20 April 1955, in Defe 6/29, approved by the Chiefs of Staff (COS) on 22 April; see COS (55) 91, in Defe 4/91, PRO. On British plans to defend Jordan against Israel, see Stuart A. Cohen, ‘A Still Stranger Aspect of Suez: British Operational Plans to Attack Israel, 1955–1956’, International History Review, x/2, (May 1988), pp. 261–81. 6 P.J. Vatikiotis, Nasser and His Generation (London: Croom Helm, 1978), p. 231. 7 JIC (55) 68, 9 November 1955, in Cab 158/22, PRO. 8 Cf. 260th meeting of NSC, 6 October 1955, in Foreign Relations of the United States (FRUS), 1955–1957, vol. XIV (Washington, DC: US Government Printing Office, 1989), pp. 553–58; also, William Y. Elliott, Office of Defense Mobilization (ODM) to NSC Planning Board, 13 October 1955, and memo of 17 May 1956, in PPS Lot file 61 D 167, box 35, NA. 9 Quoted in W. Scott Lucas, Divided We Stand: Britain, the US and the Suez Crisis (New York: Hodder & Stoughton, 1991), p. 87. 10 US embassy, Israel, to State Department, 14 October, 1955, and Dulles (Geneva) to State Department, 26 October 1955, pp. 590–91, 657. 11 Dulles to State Department, 31 October 1955, p. 684. 12 See, Van Creveld, The Sword and the Olive, p. 138. 13 Cf. Morris, Israel’s Border Wars, pp. 278–79, 282; and Motti Golani, ‘The Historical Place of the Czech-Egyptian Arms Deal’, Middle Eastern Studies, vol. 31/4, (October 1955), pp. 813–17. 14 Meeting on 4 April 1956, in FRUS, 1955–57, vol. xv, p. 458; Dickson’s report in FO 371/121273, PRO. 15 PPS paper, ‘Current US Policy in the Middle East’, 17 May 1956, in PPS Lot File 61 D 167, box 35, National Archives, Washington, DC (NA). 16 Kenneth W. Condit, History of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, Vol. VI: The Joint Chiefs of Staff and National Policy, 1955–1956 (Washington, DC: Historical Office, Joint Staff, 1992), pp. 165–66. 17 Cf. the debate between the Pentagon and the State Department on military involvement in the Middle East during the winter of 1950; cf. Michael J. Cohen, Fighting World War Three from the Middle East (London: Frank Cass, 1997), pp. 245–53. 18 Cf. Henry Byroade to Secretary of Defence, 19 July 1954, PPS Lot file 61 D167, box 35, NA, JCS to Secretary of Defence Wilson, 19 October 1955, FRUS, 1955–57, vol. XIV, pp. 614–15, and Condit, History of the Joint Chiefs, vol. IV, p. 167. 19 Memorandum for the Minister for Defence, by Commodore H. Lovegrove, Secretary of the COS Committee, in Defe 13/215, PRO. 20 Special National Intelligence Estimate (SNIE) 30-3-55, 2 October 1955, in FRUS, 1955–57, vol. XIV, pp. 578–79; and JCS memorandum for Rear Admiral Currie, 4 May 1956, in CCS 381 EMMEA (11-19-47) section 29, box 13, NA; and COS (55) 304, 23 November 1955, in Defe 5/62, PRO. 21 Cf. 260th meeting of NSC, 6 October 1955, in FRUS, 1955–57, vol. XIV, pp. 553–58; also, William Y. Elliott, Office of Defense Mobilization (ODM) to NSC Planning Board, 13 October 1955, and memo of 17 May 1956, in PPS Lot file 61 D 167, box 35, NA. 22 262nd and 263rd meetings of NSC, 20 and 27 October 1955, in FRUS, 1955–57, vol. XIV, pp. 619–25, 666–67. 23 Ibid; and JCS memorandum for the Secretary for Defence, 27 March 1956, JCS 1887/159, CCS 092, Palestine (5-3-46) section 19, box 31, NA; and Condit, History of the Joint Chiefs, vol. IV, p. 168.

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24 JCS instructions to JSPG, 23 December 1955, and JCS memorandum for Secretary of Defence, ibid., both in JCS 1887/159, CCS 092, Palestine (5-3-46) section 19, box 31; also report by Joint Middle East Planning Committee, 29 March 1956, in JCS 1887/161, in CCS 381 EMMEA (11-19-47) section 33, box 13, NA; and Condit, History of the Joint Chiefs, vol. IV, pp. 169–70. 25 COS (56) 150, 18 April 1956, in Defe 5/67, PRO. 26 William C. Burdett to Fraser Wilkins, director of NEA, 10 April 1956, in RG 59, 780.5/4-1056, box 3709, NA. 27 JCS memorandum for Secretary of Defence, 6 July 1956, CCS 381 EMMEA (11-19-47) section 38, box 14, NA. 28 Diary entry, 4 November 1955, Evelyn Shuckburgh, Descent to Suez, selected for publication by John Charmley (London: Weidenfeld & Nicholson, 1986), p. 296. 29 Diary entries for 9 November 1955 and 15 March 1956, ibid., pp. 298, 347–48. 30 Annex to JP (55) 31, 20 April 1955, in Defe 6/29, and COS (55) 91, 22 April 1955, in Defe 4/76, PRO. 31 JP (55) 100, 22 October 1955, in Defe 6/31, PRO. 32 Ibid. 33 Annex to JP (55) 138, 10 November 1955, in Defe 6/32, approved by the Defence Committee on 18 November 1955, in COS (55) 304, in Defe 5/62. 34 Annex to JP (55) 31, and COS (55) 91. 35 Ibid., and annex to COS (56) 151, 18 April 1956, in Defe 5/67, and in FO 371/121273, PRO. 36 Annex to JP (55) 31, and annex to JP (55) 138. 37 JP (55) 100; on the abortive Templer mission, cf. Elie Podeh, The Quest for Hegemony in the Arab World: The Struggle over the Baghdad Pact (Leiden, New York: E.J. Brill, 1995); and Uriel Dann, ‘The Foreign Office, The Baghdad Pact and Jordan’, Asian and African Studies, vol. 21/3, (1987), pp. 247–61. 38 Annex to JP (55) 138, JP (56) 3, 18 January 1956, in Defe 6/34; and A. Earle (ACAS) memorandum of 16 February 1956, in Air 8/2045, PRO. 39 Annex to COS (56) 153, 18 April 1956, in Defe 5/67, and in FO 371/121273, PRO. 40 CIA Appreciation presented by Director Allen Dulles to 279th meeting of NSC, 8 March 1956, in FRUS, 1955–57, ibid., p. 328; and meeting between Dulles and Dickson, 4 April, 1956, in idem, pp. 458–59; also Dickson’s report on his Washington visit. 41 Michael T. Thornhill, ‘Alternatives to Nasser: Humphrey Trevelyan, Ambassador to Egypt’, Contemporary British History, vol. 13/2 (summer 1999). 42 Annex to COS (56) 150, 18 April 1956, in Defe 5/67, and in FO 371/121272; also Dickson report on his Washington visit. 43 COS (56) 150, annex to COS (56) 152, 18 April 1956, in Defe 5/67, and in FO 371/121272, PRO. 44 Ibid., and Dickson report on his Washington visit. 45 Annex to COS (56) 150, ibid. 46 Ibid. On the Eisenhower administration’s policy, of encouraging arms sales to Israel by France, NATO countries, even Nicaragua, see David Tal, ‘Israel’s Quest for Hawk Missiles’, International History Review, vol. XXII/2, (June 2000), p. 305. 47 Annex to COS (56) 152, PRO. 48 Ibid. 49 JP (56) 70, 13 April 1956, in Defe 6/35, PRO and COS (56) 152. 50 COS (56) 152. 51 Ibid. 52 Ibid., and annex to COS (56) 151. 53 Annex to COS (56) 150, and to COS (56) 152.

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54 Annex to COS (56) 152. 55 JP (56) 3, briefing by Vice Admiral B.L Austen, director of Joint Staff of JCS, 22 July 1957, CCS EMMEA (11-19-47), section 63, box 6, NA; and K.W. Condit, History of the Joint Chiefs, vol. IV, p. 170. 56 Eden and Lloyd to Foreign Office, 31 January 1956, in Prem 11/1938, PRO. 57 State–JCS meeting, 10 February 1956, Lot file 61 D 417, box 51; T.J. Hedding, memorandum, 7 March 1956, RG 218, Admiral Radford’s files, 091 Palestine, box 14, NA, and JP (56) 99, 23 May 1956, in Defe 6/35, PRO. 58 State–JCS meeting, ibid., and memorandum by T.J. Hedding (office of the JCS), 23 February 1956, in RG 218, Admiral Radford files, 09, Palestine, box 4, CJCS 091 Palestine, NA. 59 See Condit, History of the Joint Chiefs, p. 171. 60 Keith Kyle, ‘Britain and the Crisis, 1955–1956’, in William Roger Louis, Roger Owen (eds), Suez 1956: The Crisis and its Significance (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1989), p. 123. 61 Uriel Dann, King Hussein and the Challenge of Arab Radicalism: Jordan, 1955–1967 (New York: Oxford University Press, 1989), pp. 32, 34; also, W. Scott Lucas, Divided We Stand, p. 96. Sir Alec Kirkbride, the previous British ambassador to Jordan, was asked to visit Amman, to check out Hussein’s motives and current position. He reported back that the young king had told him that ‘he could not . . . have tolerated the General for another day; he had been patronized for too long and he was sick and tired of it’. Cf. Anthony Nutting, No End of a Lesson: The Story of Suez (London: Constable, 1967), p. 31. 62 For Byroade’s views see G.G. Arthur (Washington) to E.M. Rose (Foreign Office), 20 January 1956, in FO 371/121270, PRO. 63 On British anxieties following Glubb’s dismissal, see Dulles – Dickson meeting on 4 April 1956. 64 On the Anderson mission, see FRUS, 1955–57, vol. XIV, pp. 1–346; on the Alpha Project, see Shimon Shamir, ‘The Collapse of Project Alpha’, in R. Louis and R. Owen (eds), Suez 1956: The Crisis and its Consequences (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1989). 65 Under-Secretary of State Herbert Hoover to Dulles (in Karachi), 8 March 1956, in FRUS, 1955–57, vol. xv, p. 326, n. 2; also, Vatikiotis, Nasser and his Generation, p. 190. 66 Note by Commodore H. Lovegrove, Secretary to the COS Committee, 7 March 1956, in Defe 13/215, PRO. 67 Cf. Dulles to the President, 28 March 1956, in FRUS, 1955–57, pp. 419–21; also, Thornhill, ‘Alternatives to Nasser’, pp. 13, 15–16; Lucas, Divided We Stand, pp. 111–13; and Peter L. Hahn, The United States, Great Britain and Egypt, 1945–1956 (Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 1991), p. 200. 68 JCS 1887/166, 3 April 1956, CCS 381 EMMEA (11-19-47), section 29, box 13, NA. 69 Ibid., and Condit, History of the Joint Chiefs, vol. IV, p. 172; and Walter Monckton, Minister of Defence, to Prime Minister Eden, 26 March 1956, in Defe 13/215, PRO. 70 Dickson’s own report of his meetings in Washington, from 3–5 April 1956, in FO 371/121273, PRO. 71 Report of Dulles – Dickson meeting, 4 April 1956, in FRUS, 1955–57, vol. XV, pp. 458–59. 72 Minute by Patrick H. Dean, 6 April 1956, FO 371/121272, PRO. Dean served as Chairman of the Joint Intelligence Committee throughout the period covered by this book. He liaised between the political and military echelons. 73 FRUS, 1955–57, vol. xv, pp. 459–60.

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74 Report by P.H. Dean, 6 April 1956, FO 371/121272, PRO. 75 See. David Tal, ‘Israel’s Road to the 1956 War’, International Journal of Middle East Studies, vol. 28, (1996), p. 73. 76 Hamarskj]ld reported back to the Security Council on 10 May that both sides had agreed to a ceasefire. Summary in Prem 11/1463, PRO. 77 Text of Eisenhower statement in FRUS, 1955–57, vol. xv, p. 495, n. 2; see also memorandum of 29 May 1956, in RG 218, Admiral Radford’s files, 091 Palestine, box 14, NA. 78 COS (56) 150, 18 April 1956, in Defe 5/67, PRO; and Condit, The Joint Chiefs, p. 173. 79 JP (56) 70, 13 April 1956, in Defe 6/35, and in Defe 6/35, PRO. 80 On the Mystères deal, see Motti Golani, Israel in Search of a War: The Sinai Campaign, 1955–1956 (Brighton: Sussex Academic Press, 1998), pp. 26–28. 81 Cf. between Dulles–Dickson meeting, 4 April 1956, in FRUS, 1955–57, vol. xv, p. 461; also JP (56) 99, 23 May 1956. 82 JP (56) 70, Brief for CAS by Director of Operations, 29 May 1956; and Air Ministry to HQ MEAF, 6 June 1956, in Air 8/2060, PRO. 83 JP (56) 99. 84 See memorandum of 29 May 1956, in RG218, Admiral Radford’s files, box 14, NA. 85 Radford to Secretary of Defence, 19 September 1956, in Admiral Radford’s files, 091 Palestine, box 14, NA. 86 Dulles–Dickson meeting, 4 April 1956; and memorandum for Brigadier General Collins, 17 August 1956, RG 218, Admiral Radford, chairman’s files, 091 Palestine, box 14, NA. 87 Ibid. Under the Tripartite agreement, the French had asked for, and the Americans had given permission, to sell 24 Mystères to Israel. Cf. Stephen E. Ambrose, Eisenhower: The President (London: George Allen & Unwin, 1984), pp. 351–52. 88 Radford to Secretary of Defence, 19 September, and Secretary, Chiefs of Staff Committee to Foreign Office, May 1956, in Air 8/2060, PRO. 89 Radford to Secretary of Defence, 19 September, and Air Ministry, London to HQ, MEAF, 19 July 1956, Air 8/2060, PRO. 90 JP (56) 99. 91 JIC (56) 73, 17 July 1956, in Cab 158/25, PRO. 92 Ibid. 93 Annex to JP (56) 156, 19 October 1956, in Defe 6/37, and Prem 11/1454, PRO. 94 Memorandum for JCS, DM-33-56, 28 July 1956, in CCS 092 Egypt (7-28-56), section 1, box 16, NA; Radford to Secretary of Defense, 19 September 1956; and memorandum by Secretary of the JCS, 3180, ‘US Intervention in Event of Arab–Israeli Conflict: Air Intervention by Naval and Air Forces’, 4 October, 1957, CCS 092 Palestine (5-3-46), section 23, box 14, NA; also Condit, History of the Joint Chiefs, vol. IV, pp. 173–74. 95 Annex to JP (56) 156. 96 See Condit, History of the Joint Chiefs, vol. IV, pp. 173–74. 97 JIC (56) 80, 10 August 1956, in Cab 158/25, PRO. 98 Memorandum for Brigadier General Collins, 17 August 1956, RG 218, Admiral Radford, chairman’s files, 091 Palestine, box 14, NA. 99 See Tal, ‘Israel’s Road to the 1956 War’, pp. 74–75. 100 JIC (56) 102, 28 September 1956, in Cab 158/26, PRO. 101 Ibid. 102 The Anglo-French invasion of Egypt also forced the abandonment of a CIAbacked coup in Syria, scheduled for 29 October. See. Lucas, Divided We Stand, pp. 276–77.

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10 THE CONSEQUENCES OF SUEZ 1 Winston S. Churchill, Marlborough: His Life and Times (London: 1947), edn. 1, vol. I, pp. 568–70. 2 See Dulles memorandum on his meeting with MacMillan, 12 December 1956, Dulles papers, box 1, general correspondence and memo series, General l thro M (2), Eisenhower Library (EL). 3 Slessor, personal memorandum, 12 January 1957, in Air 75/100, PRO. 4 General Keightley report, 11 October 1957, in COS (57) 220, in Defe 5/78, in Defe 11/137, PRO. 5 Field Marshal Lord Bramall and General Sir William Jackson, The Chiefs: The Story of the United Kingdom Chiefs of Staff (London: Brassey’s, 1992), p. 298. 6 Roy Fullick and Geoffrey Powell, Suez: The Double War (London: Hamish Hamilton, 1979), pp. 189, 192. 7 Ibid., p. 195. 8 See Slessor’s private memorandum, January 1957, in Air 75/100, PRO. Slessor had worked with Eisenhower when the former has served as Chief of the Air Staff, and the latter as the first commander of NATO. 9 On the Administration’s ostracization of Eden, largely at the instigation of UnderSecretary of State Hoover (Dulles was hospitalized) and Secretary of the Treasury Humphrey, see Nigel John Ashton, Eisenhower, MacMillan and the Problem of Nasser (London and New York: MacMillan and St Martin’s, 1996), pp. 103–04. The views of the American ambassador are quoted in David Carlton, Anthony Eden: A Biography (London: Allen Lane, 1981), p. 87. 10 Slessor personal memo, 12 January 1957. 11 Evelyn, Shuckburgh, Descent to Suez, selected for publication by John Charmley, (London: Weidenfeld & Nicolson, 1986, diary entries for 3 and 12 March 1956), pp. 341, 346. 12 See Carlton, Anthony Eden, p. 483. 13 David Carlton, Britain and the Suez Crisis (Oxford: Blackwell, 1988), p. 39; W. Scott Lucas, Divided We Stand: Britain, the US and the Suez Crisis (New York: 1991, p. 143); and Richard Lamb, The Failure of the Eden Government (London: Sidgwick & Jackson 1987), pp. 198–99. 14 See Lucas, Divided We Stand, p. 160; also Keith Kyle, ‘Britain and the Crisis’, in William Roger Louis and Roger Owen (eds), Suez 1956: The Crisis and its Significance (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1989), p. 115. 15 Meeting of the Egyptian Committee, 7 August 1956, in Cab 134/1216; also note by MacMillan, 7 August 1956, in Defe 13/47, PRO. 16 See Lucas, Divided We Stand, pp. 161–62; and Carlton, Britain and the Suez Crisis, p. 43. 17 See Kyle, ‘Britain and the Crisis’, pp. 115–16. 18 Minutes of COS meeting, 25 October 1956, COS (56) 105th, in Defe 4/91, also in Air 8/2091, PRO. 19 See Kyle, ‘Britain and the Crisis,’ p. 125; and Lucas, Divided We Stand, pp. 103, 193–94. 20 Dulles conversation with Lloyd, 23 August 1956, Dulles papers, box 1, General, L thro M (1), EL. 21 Ibid. 22 See Kyle, ‘Britain and the Crisis,’ pp. 115–16; and Fullick and Powell, Suez, p. 192. 23 SD12 (56) note 1 (Final), 9 September 1956, in Defe 6/39, PRO; also Kyle, ‘Britain and the Crisis,’ pp. 119–22; and Lucas, Divided We Stand, pp. 189, 197.

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24 Minute by Sir Gerald Fitzmaurice, 27 September, quoted in Kyle, ‘Britain and the Crisis,’ p. 124. 25 On plans to defend Jordan against an attack by Israel, see Stuart A. Cohen, ‘A Still Stranger Aspect of Suez: British Operational Plans to Attack Israel, 1955–1956’, International History Review, vol. X/2, (May 1988), pp. 261–81. 26 JP (56) 149 (D), 27 September 1956, in Defe 6/37, PRO. The Sèvres agreement included an Israeli promise not to attack Jordan, and a British promise not to come to Jordan’s aid if the latter sided with Egypt and initiated hostilities against Israel. 27 See Lucas, Divided We Stand, p. 230; also, S.A. Cohen, ‘A Still Stranger Aspect’. 28 See Lucas, ibid., pp. 238–39. 29 Cited in Lamb, Failure of Eden Government, p. 242. 30 See Carlton, Britain and the Suez Crisis, p. 70; and Lucas, Divided We Stand, p. 267. 31 On the Anglo-Israeli military talks and Eden’s veto, see Michael J. Cohen, Fighting World War Three from the Middle East: Allied Contingency Plans, 1945–1954 (London: Frank Cass, 1997), pp. 210–38. 32 COS (56) 314, 16 August 1956, in Defe 5/70, PRO. 33 See Lucas, Divided We Stand, p. 301. 34 JP (56) 149 (D), 27 September 1956. 35 See Anthony Nutting, No End of a Lesson: The Story of Suez (London: Constable 1967), pp. 88–89, 92–94. 36 Ibid., p. 94. Nutting handed in his resignation on 31 October, but the public announcement was held up until 3 November 1956. 37 Mohammed Hassanein Heikal, The Cairo Documents (New York: Doubleday, 1973), pp. 90–91. 38 On Eden’s ‘taking leave of his senses’, cf. Private memorandum by Air Chief Marshall Sir John Slessor, January 1957, in Air 75/100, PRO; on his physical and mental condition, cf. Nutting, No End of a Lesson, pp. 14, 33, 97–98. 39 Fullick and Powell, Suez, p. 189; Kyle, ‘Britain and the Crisis,’ p. 128; and Motti Golani, Israel in Search of a War: The Sinai Campaign, 1955–1956 (Brighton: Sussex Academic Press, 1998), pp. 167–68. 40 Stephen Ambrose, Eisenhower: The President (London: George Allen & Unwin, 1984), p. 363. It is perhaps appropriate to recall that the Secretary’s brother, Allen, headed the CIA, which had brought about the downfall of Mossadigh in Iran in 1953 and was plotting the demise of the Syrian regime. The latter plot had been timed for 29 October 1956, and had to be aborted due to the Suez War. 41 Cf. memorandum by JSPC on Nationalisation of the Suez Canal, DM-33-56, 28 July 1956, in CCS 092 Egypt (7-28-56) section 1, box 16, The National Archives (NA); also Kenneth W. Condit, History of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, vol. VI: The Joint Chiefs of Staff and National Policy, 1955–1956 (Washington, DC: Historical Office, Joint Staff, 1992), p. 178. 42 JCS 2105/38, 31 July 1956, in CCS 092, Egypt, (7-28-56) section 1, box 16, NA. 43 See Condit, History of the Joint Chiefs, pp. 178–79. 44 James S. Lay (Executive secretary to the NSC) to Dulles, 10 August 1956, PPS files, Lot File 61 D 167, box 35, NA; also ibid., p. 179. 45 Contingency paper no. 2, 24 August 1956, RG 59 PPS files, 1956, lot files 66 D 487, box 108, NA; and Condit, History of the Joint Chiefs, pp. 181–82. 46 Cf. Memorandum for Brigadier General Collins, 17 August 1956, RG 218, Admiral Radford, chairman’s files, 091 Palestine, box 14; and State – JCS meeting, 31 August, 1956, RG 59, lot file 61 D 417, box 52, NA. 47 Contingency paper no. 4, 12 September 1956, in RG 59 PPS files, 1956, lot files 66 D 487, box 108, 12 September 1956, NA. 48 See Condit, History of the Joint Chiefs, p. 182.

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49 See Hermann Frederick Eilts, ‘Reflections on the Suez Crisis: Security in the Middle East’, in Carlton, Britain and the Suez Crisis, p. 357. 50 Leonard Mosley, Dulles: A Biography of Eleanor, Allen and John Foster Dulles and Their Family Network (London: Hodder & Stoughton, 1978), pp. 416–17. 51 Ibid., p. 416. 52 Interviews with Allen Dulles and Chairman of the JCS, Arthur W. Radford, Princeton Oral Histories, The Seeley Mudd Library, Princeton. 53 See Ambrose, Eisenhower, p. 353. 54 Cf. Lucas, Divided We Stand, p. 261, also Nuttin, No End of a Lesson, p. 115. 55 Dwight D. Eisenhower, The Papers of Dwight David Eisenhower:The White House Years: Waging Peace, 1956–1961, vol. XVII, Louis Galambos and Daun Van Een (eds), (New York: Doubleday, 1996), pp. 680–81. 56 See Golani, Israel in Search of War, p. 153. 57 Cf. records in Air 8/1940, PRO. 58 Keightley report on the Suez War, 11 October 1957, COS (57) 220, in Defe 11/137, PRO; also Nutting, No End of a Lesson, p. 55. 59 Annex to JP (57) 142, 11 December 1957, in Defe 6/43, and Defe 7/1736, PRO. 60 See Golani, Israel in Search of War, p. 153. 61 Keightley report on Suez War. 62 Ibid. 63 See Golani, Israel in Search of War, p. 189. 64 See Nutting, No End of a Lesson, pp. 141–42. 65 See Lucas, Divided We Stand, pp. 253, 271–73; also Anthony Gorst and Lewis Johnman, The Suez Crisis (London: Routledge, 1997), p. 112. 66 CAS to Minister of Defence, 31 October 1956, in Air 8/2111, PRO. 67 Ministry of Defence to GHQ, MELF, 31 October, 1956, ibid. 68 See Lucas, Divided We Stand, pp. 253, 271–73; Gorst and Johnman, The Suez Crisis, p. 112. 69 McDermot (FO) to Keightley, 2 November 1956, in Air 8/1940, PRO. 70 Keightley report on Suez War. 71 See Lucas, Divided We Stand, p. 253; and Golani, Israel in Search of War, p. 142. 72 Keightley on Suez War. 73 Ibid. 74 Ibid., Shuckburgh, Descent to Suez, diary entry for 3 December 1956; and Lucas, Divided We Stand, p. 271. 75 See Richard C. Whiting, ‘The Suez Canal and the British Economy, 1918–1960’, in Keith M. Wilson (ed.), Imperialism and Nationalism in the Middle East: The AngloEgyptian Experience, 1882–1982 (London: Mansell, 1983), pp. 85–87. 76 Cf. John B. Shaw (Economic Affairs) to Fraser Wilkins (NEA), 19 December 1956, in 780.5/12-1956, RG 59, box 3711, NA. 77 See Lucas, Divided We Stand, pp. 318–19; and Gorst and Johnman, The Suez Crisis. 78 Cf. JP (56) 176, 14 November 1956, ‘Implications of a Russian-Sponsored War in the Middle East’, in Defe 6/38, PRO; US Intelligence report, NIE 11-9-56, 21 November 1956, in RG 59, Lot File 66 D 487, PPS office files, 1956, box 108, NA; also Lucas, Divided We Stand, pp. 291, 305. 79 Minute by J.D. Speares, 14 November 1956, in FO 371/121265, PRO. 80 Unnumbered Memorandum, 29 November 1956, in RG 59, lot file 66 D 487, PPS office files, 1956, box 108, NA. 81 Ibid. 82 See COS (56) 451, 31 December 1956, in Defe 32/5, PRO. 83 General Greunther had served as chairman of the JCS, and went on to become Eisenhower’s military adviser.

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84 For the British record of the meeting, see V1075/132G, FO 371/121274; also Prem 11/1467, PRO. 85 Ibid. 86 Ibid. 87 Eden minute, 11 November 1956, in Prem 11/1467, PRO. 88 See Lucas, Divided We Stand, pp. 318–19. 89 Dulles memorandum, 12 December 1956; see also, Marc Trachtenberg, A Constructed Peace: The Making of the European Settlement, 1945–1963 (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1999), p. 216.

11 ALLIED STRATEGY IN THE MIDDLE EAST AFTER SUEZ 1 Humphrey Trevelyan, The Middle East in Revolution (London: MacMillan, 1970), p. 130. 2 Kenneth W. Condit, History of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, vol. VI: The Joint Chiefs of Staff and National Policy, 1955–1956, (Washington, DC: Historical Office, Joint Staff, 1992), pp. 159, 163–64. 3 Cf. Dulles–Selwyn Lloyd meeting on 10 December 1956, during a conference of NATO Ministers in Paris, in PPS files, Lot 66 D 487, box 109, NA; also Nigel John Ashton, Eisenhower, MacMillan and the Problem of Nasser (London and New York: MacMillan and St Martin’s Press, 1996), pp. 118–19. 4 E.G. Mathews to Mr Burdett (NEA), 14 November 1956, in 780.5/11-14556, box 3710, RG 59, NA. 5 Summary of US Embassy, Baghdad, to State Department, 15 November 1956, in 780.5/11-15556, box 3710, NA. 6 Ibid. 7 Ibid. 8 Memorandum on US Adherence to the Baghdad Pact, 17 November 1956, PPS files, Lot 66 D 487, box 109, NA. 9 State–JCS meeting, 16 November 1956, in Lot file 61 D 417, box 52, RG 59; also report by Murphy to Acting Secretary of State, 16 November 1956, 780.5/11-1656, box 3710, NA. 10 State–JCS meeting, Lot File 61 D 417, box 52, RG 59, NA. 11 Ibid. 12 JCS to Secretary for Defense, DM-154-56, 29 November 1956, CCS 381 EMMEA (11-19-47) sec 50, box 15, NA. 13 State–JCS meeting, Lot File 61 D 417, box 52, RG 59. The PPS was an Office established in the State Department in 1947. George Kennan was its first Director. Robert Bowie had succeeded Kennan as Director of the PPS, a position he held until October 1957; since August 1955, he also held the position of Assistant Secretary of State for Policy Planning. 14 Ibid. 15 Murphy to Admiral Radford 780.5/11-1656, box 3710, NA. 16 Dulles–Lloyd meeting in Paris, 10 December 1956. 17 Fraser Wilkins, in ibid.; also Dulles views, as reported by Murphy to Admiral Radford, 16 November 1956, in PPS Office files, 1956, Lot File 66 D 487, box 109, NA. 18 PPS memorandum, 17 November 1956, ibid. 19 JCS memorandum, 29 November 1956, DM-154-56, CCS 381 EMMEA (11-19-47) sec 50, box 15, NA. 20 JSPC report ‘Military Planning with Middle East Countries’, 14 March 1957, JCS 1887/347, CCS 381 EMMEA (11-19-47) sec 4, NA. 21 JCS memorandum, 29 November 1956. See also, State Department to Rome embassy, 9 January 1957, 780.5/12-1956, box 3711, RG 59, NA.

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22 PPS Memorandum, ‘For and against joining the Baghdad Pact’, 17 November 1956, in PPS files, Lot 66 D 487, box 109, NA. 23 Ibid. 24 Elie Podeh, The Quest for Hegemony in the Arab World: The Struggle over the Baghdad Pact (Leiden: E.J. Brill, 1995), pp. 212 ff. 25 PPS memorandum, 17 November 1956; also, JCS to Secretary for Defense, CM-407-56, 29 November 1956, in CCS 381 EMMEA (11-19-47) sec 50, box 15; also, State Department to embassies in Baghdad, Ankara, Moscow, Paris, 24 November 1956, 780.5/11-2456, NA. 26 Defence Committee meeting, 23 January 1957, in Cab 131/18, PRO. 27 Report by JSPC, ‘Military Planning with Middle East Countries’, JCS 1887/347, 14 March 1957, in CCS 381 EMMEA (11-19-47) sec 4, NA. 28 Report in State Department to Baghdad Pact countries, 12 December 1956, 780.5/ 12-1256, box 3711, RG 59, NA. 29 E.G. Mathews to Mr Burdett (NEA), 14 November 1956. 30 PPS memorandum, 17 November 1956; also, memorandum by Under-Secretary Hoover on the Middle East, November 1956, in Dulles files, November 1956, in the Ann Whitman file, Papers as President, 53-61, Dulles-Herter series, box 8, EL. 31 Dulles–Lloyd meeting, 10 December 1956; also, Sir Harold Caccia, FO, 28 January 1957, reporting on visit by Defence Minister Sandys to Washington, in Prem 11/1943, PRO, and General Nathan Twining, chairman of the JCS, to Secretary for Defense, 16 May 1958, CCS 381 (8-14-57), sec 12, box 66, NA. 32 Dulles briefing at the Bermuda summit, 21 March 1957, International Trips and Meetings, White House Office of the Staff Secretary, box 2; also briefing for Eisenhower for MacMillan visit to Washington, 23–25 October 1957, Confidential file, subject series, box 75, Records as President, White House Central files, EL; also Condit, History of the Joint Chiefs, p. 164; and Ashton, Eisenhower, MacMillan, pp. 107– 9. 33 Douglas Little, ‘A Puppet in Search of a Puppeteer? The United States, King Hussein, and Jordan, 1953–70’, International History Review, vol. XVII/3, August 1995, pp. 512–44; and Uriel Dann, King Hussein and the Challenge of Arab Radicalism: Jordan, 1955–1967 (New York: Oxford University Press, 1989), p. 65. 34 ‘Military Aspects of Congressional Joint Resolution’, JCS 1887/342, 20 February 1957, in CCS 381 EMMEA (11-19-47), sec 55, box 4; and N.F. Twining to Secretary for Defense, 19 September 1957, CCS 381 EMMEA (11-19-47) sec 65, box 6, NA. When the US joined the Pact’s Military Committee in June 1957, it contributed onesixth ($76,000) to the Pact’s annual ‘international’ budget, as well as eight officials to the Pact’s secretariat. 35 Ibid. 36 Terms of Reference for General Twining, 14 May 1957, in JCS 1887/356, CCS 381 EMMEA (11-19-47), sec 58, box 5, NA. 37 State Department memorandum on American Adherence to the Baghdad Pact, 18 July 1958, RG 59, box 3716, 780.5/7-1858, NA. 38 JIC (57) 33, 2 May 1957, in Cab 158/28, PRO. 39 JP (56) 184, ‘Middle East Redeployment’, 28 November 1956, in Defe 6/38, PRO. 40 Minute by Terence W. Garvey, 14 December 1956, in FO 371/121370, PRO. Garvey had served as Head of the American Department at the Foreign Office from September 1952 to June 1954, when he was appointed Counsellor at the Cairo embassy. He returned to the Foreign Office in April 1957. 41 Ibid. 42 Undated memorandum, November 1956, by Herbert Hoover, Under-Secretary of State, in Dulles file, November 1956, the Dulles-Herter Series, box 8, Papers as President of the US, 1953–61, The Eisenhower Library (EL).

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43 Cf. Elbert G. Mathews (PPS) to William C. Burdett (Deputy Director, NEA), 14 November 1956, in 780.5/11-1456, box 3710, RG 59, Washington, DC (NA); also W. Scott Lucas, Divided We Stand: Britain, the US and the Suez Crisis (New York, Hodder & Stoughton: 1991), p. 321. 44 Cf. Louis Galambos and Daun Van Ee (eds), The Papers of Dwight David Eisenhower, vol. XVIII (Baltimore and London: Johns Hopkins University Press, 2001), pp. 100–01, 136; also, John Baylis, ‘The Anglo-American Relationship in Defence’, in John Baylis (ed.), British Defence Policy in a Changing World (London: Croom Helm, 1977), p. 77. On MacMillan’s service as Minister Resident, Mediterranean from January 1943, see Harold MacMillan, War Diaries: Politics and War in the Mediterranean, January 1943–May 1945 (London: MacMillan, 1984). 45 The British record of the discussion at Bermuda on 21 March 1957, in FO 371/127755, PRO; the American record is in the papers of the White House Office secretary, International Trips and Meetings, box 2, EL. 46 First meeting of White House Summit meeting, 9 June 1958, P.M. (W)(58) lst, in Cab 133/239, PRO. Eisenhower, Dulles and MacMillan were all in attendance. 47 Ibid. 48 Record of 374th meeting of NSC on 31 July 1958, in Foreign Relations of the United States (FRUS), 1958–60, vol. XII, Near East Region: Iraq, Iran, Arabian Peninsula (US Government Printing Office, Washington, DC: 1993), pp. 124–34. 49 JP (58) 169, 17 December 1958, in Defe 6/52, PRO. 50 See David W. Lesch, Syria and the United States (Boulder, CO: Westview Press, 1992), pp. 106–07. 51 The Buraimi Oasis lay across the Saudi–Abu Dhabi–Omani borders. Ibn Saud laid claim to the area when the American oil conglomerate ARAMCO began searching there for oil in 1949. In 1952, Saudi Arabian forces occupied the oasis. The following year, when the issue was brought to international arbitration, ARAMCO helped Ibn Saud to prepare his case. When arbitration failed, the British, who regarded Saud’s action as a challenge to their position on the Gulf, reoccupied the Oasis forcibly in October 1955; see Ashton, Eisenhower, MacMillan, pp. 17, 74–75. 52 British and American records of Bermuda discussion, 21 March 1957; also, Ashton, Ibid., p. 156; and Ritchie Ovendale, Britain, the United States and the Transfer of Power in the Middle East, 1945–1962 (London: Leicester University Press, 1996), p. 245. 53 Minutes in Prem 11/1937, PRO. 54 Minutes of Bermuda discussion. 55 Cf. Baylis, ‘Anglo-American Relationship’, pp. 77–78; and Simon J. Ball, The Bomber in British Strategy: Doctrine, Strategy, and Britain’s World Role, 1945–1960, (Boulder, CO: Westview Press, 1995), p. 161. Marc Trachtenberg, a scholar of American nuclear strategy and diplomacy during the Cold War, has expressed the reservation that this ‘very important relationship’ was in fact intended by the Americans to be only the prelude to a broader NATO sharing system, and claims that the 1957 Anglo-American agreement in fact ‘implied a cooling of American support for an independent British nuclear capability’. Cf. Marc Trachtenberg, A Constructed Peace: The Making of the European Settlement, 1945–1963 (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1999), pp. 216–17. Trachtenberg also points out that it was not clear if the dual-key system regulating the firing of the Thor missiles from British soil would have guaranteed the Americans a veto on their use, idem, p. 195. 56 See, John Lewis Gaddis, ‘Intelligence, Espionage, and Cold War Origins’, Diplomatic History, vol. 13/2 (spring, 1989), p. 207. 57 See note by Air Chief Marshal Sir Dermot Boyle, Chief of the Air Staff, 31 December 1956, and General Nathan F. Twining, Chief of Staff, USAF, to Sir Dermot Boyle, 12 December 1956, in COS (56) 451, 31 December 1956, Defe 32/5, PRO.

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58 See Ball, The Bomber in British Strategy, pp. 161–62; and A. Gorst and L. Johnman, The Suez Crisis (London: Routledge, 1997), p. 156. 59 Lloyd to MacMillan, 6 June 1957, in FO 371/127828, PRO. 60 See memorandum by CIGS Sir Gerald Templer, 11 August 1958, in Adm 205/116, PRO. 61 Annex to JP (56) 184; and ‘Outline Strategy for the Middle East in Global War’, JP (57) 38, 20 May 1957, in Defe 6/41, PRO. 62 Minute by Sir P.H. Gore-Booth, (Deputy Under-Secretary, FO), December 1956, in FO 371/121370, PRO. 63 See annex to COS (56) 448, 21 December 1956, in Defe 5/72, circulated to the Defence Committee by the Minister for Defence, as D.(57) 4, 22 January 1957, in Cab 131/18, PRO. 64 Minute by Sir P.H. Gore-Booth, FO 371/121370, PRO. 65 ‘Outline Strategy for the Middle East in Global War’, JP (57) 38; also, annex to JP (57) 15, 21 February 1957, in Defe 6/40, PRO. 66 ‘Interim Directive for Global War to the C. in Cs. Middle East’, annex to JP (57) 70, 5 July 1957, in Air 8/2052; these directives were still in force until the summer of 1958, cf. Chiefs of Staff to Middle East commanders, 28 March 1958, in COS (58) 87, Defe 5/83; also annex to JP (58) 29, 19 May 1958, in Defe 6/46, PRO. 67 See A. Earle (ACAS) to VCAS, 5 December 1956, in Air 20/10096, PRO. 68 Note by Anthony Head, Minister of Defence, 21 November 1956, in FO 371/121267, PRO. 69 Annex to JP (56) 185, 30 November 1956, in Defe 6/38, PRO. 70 Note by Minister of Defence, 21 November 1956. 71 Ibid. 72 See Ronald Hyam and William Roger Louis (eds), British Documents on the End of Empire, series A, volume 4, The Conservative Government and the End of Empire, 1957–1964, Part I: High Policy, Political and Constitutional Change (London: The Stationery Office, 2000), p. xli. 73 American record of Bermuda Summit meeting, 22 March 1957, White House Office papers, Office of the Staff Secretary, International trips and meetings, box 2, EL. The British Joint Planners proposed that the UK cease paying the £12 million annual subsidy to Jordan, and declare that sum as being available to the Baghdad Pact; the subsidy was indeed cancelled, but the Cabinet refused to commit the amount to the Baghdad Pact. Cf. annex to JP (56) 185. 74 Cf. annex to JP (56) 184, and annex to JP (56) 204, 21 December 1956, in Defe 6/38, PRO. 75 JP (56) 184, 28 November 1956, in Defe 6/38, PRO. 76 Annex to JP (56) 185; and annex to JP (56) 38, 20 May 1957, in Defe 6/41, PRO. 77 JP (56) 189, 17 December 1956, discussed by COS at 4th meeting, 10 January 1957, in Defe 4/94; also ‘Interim Directive to the C. in Cs. ME for Global War’. 78 Note by Minister of Defence, 21 November 1956, in FO 371/121267, PRO. 79 Cf. annex to JP (56) 30 November 1956; A. Earle (ACAS) to VCAS, 5 December 1956, in Air 20/10096, JP (56) 189, 17 December 1956, in Air 8/2052, annex to COS (56) 448, 21 December 1956, in Defe 5/72, brought to the Committee of Defence as D.(57) 4, 22 January 1957, where it was approved on 27 January 1957; minutes in Cab 131/18; see also annex to JP (57) 38, 20 May 1957, in Defe 6/41, PRO. 80 Cf. annex to JP (56) 185; COS (56) 448, 21 December 1956, in Defe 5/72; and brief for the British delegation to the Bermuda summit, 11 March 1957, in FO 371/127755, PRO. 81 Briefing for Eisenhower for MacMillan visit to Washington, 23–25 October 1957. 82 See Lesch, Syria and the United States, pp. 115, 156. On the Syrian crisis, which from May to November 1957 raised the spectre in the West that Syria might set up a Communist regime, cf. idem, chapter 9.

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83 Eisenhower briefing, October 1957. William Rountree to Dulles, 20 January 1958, RG 59, 780.5/1-2058, box 3714, NA; and ‘Baghdad Pact Interim Capabilities Plan’, annex to JP (56) 169 (Final), 9 November 1956, in Defe 6/37, PRO. 84 JP (56) 169. 85 Ibid; and Report on Pact Council meeting in Karachi, Pakistan, 3–6 June 1957, in Symon to FO, 15 June 1957, in Defe 11/150, PRO. 86 Washington embassy to FO, 17 January 1958, in FO 371/133937, PRO; and UnderSecretary Robert Murphy to Mansfield D. Sprague, Assistant Secretary for Defense, 16 January 1958, RG 59, 780.5/1, box 3714, NA. 87 Dulles report to 354th meeting of NSC, 7 February 1958, in Ann Whitman file, papers as President, NSC series, box 9, EL. 88 Ibid. 89 Dulles to Eisenhower, 25 January 1958, RG 59, 788.5-MSP/1-2558, box 3714, NA; reproduced in FRUS, 1958–60, vol. XII, pp. 533–35. 90 Dulles report to 354th meeting of NSC. 91 Ibid. 92 JCS 1887/424, ‘memorandum for C-in-C Specified Command, Middle East’, 20 December 1957, in CCS 381 EMMEA (11-19-47), sec 66, box 7, and JCS 1887/363, 13 June 1957, in CS 381 (11-19-47), sec 59A, box 5, NA. 93 Ibid. 94 Annex to JP (56) 171, 25 October 1956, in Defe 6/37, PRO. 95 JCS 1887/460, 11 June 1958, CCS EMMEA (11-19-47), sec 70, box 3, NA. 96 JP (56) 170 (Final),7 November, in Defe 6/37, PRO. 97 That is, Report by General Twining on meeting of the Military Deputies Committee in Ankara, from 3–7 November 1958, JCS 2273/101, CCS 381 (8-11-57), sec 17, box 66, NA. 98 General Twining to Secretary for Defense, 16 May 1958, CCS 381 (8-11-57), sec 12, box 66, NA. 99 JP (56) 169, 9 November 1956; and annex to JP (56) 204, 21 December 1956, in Defe 6/38, PRO; and JP (56) 170; and briefing for Eisenhower on MacMillan visit to Washington, 23–25 October 1957. 100 Ibid. 101 Ibid. 102 Memorandum of 9 January 1957, CCS 381 EMMEA (11-19-47) sec 53, box 4, NA. 103 ‘British Comments on Baghdad Pact Nuclear Study’, in JP (56) 193, 20 December 1956, in Defe 6/38, annex to JP (57) 15, 21 February 1957, in Defe 6/40; and ‘Outline Strategy for the Middle East in Global War’, JP (57) 38, 20 May 1957, in Defe 6/41, PRO. 104 Ibid. 105 ‘Baghdad Pact Interim Capabilities Plan’, in JP (56) 169 (Final), 9 November 1956, in Defe 6/37; the views of the C.-in-Cs ME are given in JP (56) 189, 17 December 1956, discussed by the COS at their 4th meeting, 7 January 1957; minutes in Defe 4/94, also Air 8/2052, PRO. 106 Financial appendix to NSC 5703/1, 8 February 1957, in FRUS, 1955–57, vol. XII, pp. 908–10; also Dulles to Iran embassy, 11 July 1955, idem, p. 757. 107 JP (56) 204, 21 December 1956. 108 William M. Rountree (NEA) to Robert Murphy, 11 March 1957, 780.5-MSP2-1357, box 3719, RG 59, NA. 109 See Michael J. Cohen, Fighting World War Three from the Middle East: Allied Contingency Plans, 1945–1954 (London: Frank Cass, 1997), pp. 24–25. 110 NSC report of 8 February 1957, prepared by James S. Lay, Jr., Executive Secretary to the NSC, FRUS, 1955–1957, vol. XII, p. 904.

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111 312th meeting of NSC, 7 February 1957, Ann Whitman file, Eisenhower papers, 1953–61, box 8, EL. 112 334th meeting of NSC, 8 August 1957, Papers as President, Ann Whitman file, NSC series, box 9, EL. 113 354th meeting of NSC, 7 February 1958, ibid. 114 Ibid. 115 Ibid., and Operations Coordinating Board (OCB) report, ‘Iranian Ground Force Requirements’, 5 September 1958, in White House Office of the Special Assistant for National Security Affairs, 1952–1961, NSC series, briefing notes, box 11, EL. 116 JCS memorandum for Secretary of Defense McElroy, 9 June 1958, FRUS, 1958–60, vol. XII, p. 555. 12 FROM THE BAGHDAD PACT TO CENTO 1 Dulles telephone conversation with Vice-President Nixon, 15 July 1958, in Foreign Relations of the United States (FRUS), 1958–60, vol. XII, Near East Region: Iraq, Iran, Arabian Peninsula, (US Government Printing Office, Washington, DC: 1993), p. 321. 2 Cf. Elie Podeh, The Quest for Hegemony in the Arab World: The Struggle over the Baghdad Pact, (Leiden and New York: 1995), pp. 241, 252; P.J. Vatikiotis, Nasser and his Generation, (London: Croom Helm, 1978), pp. 236–37; and Frank Brenchley, Britain and the Middle East: An Economic History, 1945–87, (London: Leslie Crook, 1989), pp. 108–09. Ironically, Qasim’s regiment formed part of the reinforcements being rushed to Iraq’s border with Syria, to meet a possible invasion by Egyptian troops from Syria – following the union of Egypt and Syria into the UAR the previous January. It is also ironic that on that very day Nuri Said and King Faisal were discussing arrangements for an impending session of the Baghdad Pact premiers in Istanbul. 3 Cf. editorial note, FRUS, 1958–60, vol. XII, pp. 307–08; and Dulles briefing notes, FRUS, 1958–1960, vol. XI, Lebanon & Jordan, pp. 211–15. 4 Ibid. 373rd meeting of NSC, 24 July 1958, pp. 102–06; also Nigel John Ashton, Eisenhower, MacMillan and the Problem of Nasser (London and New York: MacMillan and St Martin’s, 1996), p. 188. 5 Briefing notes for Alan Dulles, Director, CIA, 14 July 1958, FRUS, 1958–60, vol. XII, pp. 308–11. 6 Cf. Michael B. Oren, ‘The Test of Suez: Israel and the Middle East Crisis of 1958’, Studies in Zionism, vol. 12/1 (1991), p. 66; quote in Vatikiotis, Nasser and his generation, p. 236. 7 Secretary Dulles, briefing to White House meeting, attended by the President, General Twining, chairman of the JCS, Allen Dulles and other senior officials, in FRUS, 1958–60, vol. XI, pp. 211–15; also briefing notes for Allen Dulles, 14 July 1958, in FRUS, 1958–60, vol. XII, pp. 308–11. 8 Annex to JP (58) 169, 17 December 1958, in Defe 6/52, PRO. 9 Cf. Eisenhower consultation with Allen Dulles, Director of CIA, on 16 July 1958, in FRUS, 1958–60, vol. XII, p. 75; also correspondence in Prem 11/2368, PRO. 10 Telegram in Prem 11/2368, PRO. 11 David W. Lesch, Syria and the United States (Boulder, Co: Westview Press, 1992), p. 212. 12 For discussion inside the Eisenhower administration, see FRUS, 1958–60, vol. XII, pp. 317ff. 13 The operations in Lebanon and Jordan are covered in FRUS, 1958–60, vol. XI; also Oren, ‘The Test of Suez’, pp. 65, 68–69.

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14 Meeting of NSC, 31 July 1958, ibid., FRUS, 1958–60, vol. XI, p. 133. 15 See Brenchley, Britain and the Middle East, p. 109. 16 Minutes of meeting at 10 Downing Street on 27 July 1958, in Prem 11/2400, attended by Prime Minister MacMillan, Foreign Minister Lloyd, Sir Norman Brook; and on the American side by John Foster Dulles and William Rountree of the State Department, and the American ambassador to the UK, John Hay Whitney; also annex to JP (58) 110, 22 August 1958, in Defe 6/51, PRO. 17 Ibid., and telephone report by Dulles to Eisenhower, in FRUS, 1958–60, vol. XII, p. 112. The JCS feared that the seized information would expose the ‘success and capabilities’ of the Intelligence Services of Pact members, including the Western Allies; and in addition, information on American ‘nuclear target selection in Caucusus, Turkistan (sic) and Sianking’, the Pact’s strategic concepts and plans, its estimates of enemy forces likely to attack the Pact territories; also information on rifts between the various members of the Pact. Cf. US Army Brigadier General H.L. Hillyard to Regional army, Navy, Air commanders, 19 November 1958, CCS 381 (8-14-57), sec 16, box 66; and Hermann Eilts (officer in charge, Baghdad Pact/CENTO affairs) to J. Lampton Berry (Deputy Secretary of State for Near Eastern, South Asian and African Affairs), 18 July 1958, RG 59, 780.5/7–1858, box 3715, National Archives (NA). 18 ‘Defence of UK Interests in the Persian Gulf’, annex to JP (58) 90 (Final), 15 July 1958, in Defe 4/109, PRO. 19 Ibid. 20 NSC report, 24 January 1958, in FRUS, 1958–60, vol. XII, p. 23. 21 Ibid., and NSC Planning Board memoranda, 29 July and 19 August 1958, ibid., pp. 119–20, 147. 22 Eisenhower to MacMillan, 21 July 1958, FO 371/133823, PRO. 23 Dulles–Lloyd consultation, 19 July, reported in telegram 777 to London, 31 July 1958, FRUS, 1958–60, vol. XII, p. 93, note 1. 24 Eisenhower conference with the Dulles brothers, 16 July 1958, in FRUS, 1958–60, vol. XII, p. 75; and conference on 20 July 1958, idem. pp. 83–85. Apart from Eisenhower and the Dulles brothers, also present were Christian A. Herter (Under Secretary of State), William M. Rountree (Assistant Secretary of State for Near Eastern, South Asian, and African Affairs), George V. Allen (Director, US Information Agency) and the President’s staff secretary, Brigadier General Andrew J. Goodpaster. 25 Ibid, conference on 20 July 1958. 26 R.D. Wentworth (USAF) to Deputy Director for Strategic Plans, 18 July 1958, CCS 381 (8-23-57) sec 6, NA. 27 Rountree to Dulles, 23 July 1958, FRUS, 1958–60, vol. XII, pp. 94–95. Dulles demurred over whether they should inform the British about the Marines being shipped to the Gulf, as the department feared speculation about the purpose of their presence in the region, and it was not certain how long they could be kept in the area on board ships without air conditioning; idem, p. 95, note 6. 28 Ibid., p. 95. 29 Ibid, 373rd meeting of NSC, 24 July, pp. 102–06. 30 Annex to JP (58) 106 (Final), 12 August 1958, in Defe 6/51, PRO. 31 Ibid. 32 JP (58) 169, 17 December 1958, in Defe 6/52. PRO. For ongoing British defence planning in regard to Kuwait after 1958, see Ritchie Ovendale, Britain, the United States and the Transfer of Power in the Middle East, 1945–1962 (London: Leicester University Press, 1996), ch. 9. 33 See Oren, ‘The Test of Suez’. 34 British record of meeting on 27 July 1958, in Prem 11/2400, PRO; on the option of returning the CMPS to Baghdad, see General Twining (chairman of JCS) to Secretary of Defense, 12 September 1958, CCS 381 (8-14-57) section 14, box 66, NA.

258

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35 For instance, see report on the committee’s meting in Ankara, 3–7 November 1958, JCS 2273/101, CCS 381 (8-11-57), sec 17, box 66, NA. The meeting discussed air and land force requirements for the defence of the Pact area, and reports on the combined training exercises carried out the previous spring. A maritime exercise, codenamed ‘Midlink’ was being carried out in the Arabian Sea and the Gulf of Oman at the time of the meeting; air defence and land communications exercises were planned for spring 1959. 36 See Sir Michael Wright (Baghdad) to Selwyn Lloyd, 16 April 1957, in Prem 11/1943, PRO. The British government undertook to cover the Baghdad Nuclear Centre’s running costs, estimated in 1957 at a modest £23,500 per annum. 37 See minutes in FO 371/132942, and FRUS, 1958–60, vol. XII, pp. 209–10. 38 Foy Kohler to Dulles, 18 July 1958, RG 59, 780.5/7–1858, box 3716, NA. 39 State Department memorandum, 18 July 1958; in ibid; also NSC Planning Board Paper, and annexes, 29 July 1958, in FRUS, 1958–60, vol. XII, pp. 114–24. 40 Rountree to Dulles, 23 July 1958, in ibid., p. 96. 41 Greene to Dulles, 24 July 1958, in ibid., p. 97, note 2. 42 373rd meeting of NSC, 24 July 1958. In reporting back on the session of that the public sessions the Pact’s Ministerial Council in Ankara, in January 1958, Dulles stated that the public meetings had in the main been ‘good in substance and tone’, except for Nuri Said, who had been ‘pretty tough’, and had carried on ‘excessively about Israel and Algeria’. Editorial note, FRUS, 1958–60, vol. XII, pp. 32–33. 43 The telegrams were brought to the State Department by Sir William Hayter, a Deputy Under-Secretary at the Foreign Office, see RG 59, 780.5/7–1858, box 3715, NA. 44 See 373rd meeting of NSC, 24 July 1958. 45 Full minutes of meeting in Prem 11/2400, PRO; also telephone report by Dulles to Eisenhower, in FRUS, 1958–60, vol. XII, p. 112. Present were MacMillan, Lloyd and Dulles, also Norman Brook, William Rountree and US ambassador Whitney; also State Department to US Embassy, Tapei, Tokyo, 7 August 1958, RG 59, 780.5/8–758, NA. 46 British record of meeting in Prem 11/2400, PRO. The phrase ‘wither on the vine’ was evidently one of Dulles’s favourites. He had used it with Selwyn Lloyd in the spring of 1956, in reference to the proposed Anglo-American loan to Nasser for building the Aswan Dam. 47 Dulles report to Eisenhower, and latter’s reply, both 27 July 1958, in FRUS, 1958–60, vol. XII, p. 112. 48 Prem 11/2400, PRO. 49 Dulles report to NSC, 31 July 1958, in FRUS, 1958–60, vol. XII, p. 126. 50 Memorandum of Dulles–Eisenhower telephone conversation, 28 July 1958, ibid, p. 113. 51 Ibid. 52 Memorandum for the President by Under-Secretary of State Christian Herter, 23 February 1959, in Papers as President of US, 1953–61, Ann Whitman Files, International Series, box 31, the Eisenhower Library (EL). 53 General Lyman L. Lemnitzer (Vice Chief of Staff of the Army, and from July 1959, Chief of Staff ) to Secretary of Defense, 25 August 1958, in 780.5/8–2558, box 3716, RG 59, NA. 54 Under Secretary Herter to the President, 23 February 1959; and JCS to Secretary for Defense Neil H. McElroy, 13 October 1958, FRUS, 1958–60, vol. XII, appendix, p. 173. 55 Notes in Prem 11/2399, PRO. 56 Ibid., Air-Marshal Sir William Dickson to F.A. Bishop, 18 August 1958; also FRUS, 1958–60, vol. XII editorial note 1, p. 225. 57 Memorandum by Admiral Dennison, CINCELM, 29 June 1959, ibid., FRUS, 1958–60, vol. XII, pp. 224–26.

259

NOTES

58 Air Chief Marshal Dickson (CAS) report on Joint Planning talks, in Prem 11/2399; and Chief of the Defence Staff report, 31 August 1959, in Prem 11/2753, PRO. 59 Annex to JP (58) 110, 22 August 1958, in Defe 6/51, PRO. 60 JP (58) note 28, 28 August 1958, in Defe 6/54, PRO. 61 State Department to US embassy, Tapei, Tokyo, 7 August 1958, RG 59, 780.5/8–758, box 3716, NA. 62 JP (58) 135, 17 October 1958, in Defe 6/52, PRO. 63 JP (58) 110. 64 JP (58) 135. 65 See annex to JP (59) 107, 19 August 1959, in Defe 6/57, PRO. 66 JCS to JMEPG, 9 September 1958, in CCS 381 (8-14-57), sec 14, box 66, NA. 67 JP (58) note 28, 28 August 1958, in Defe 6/54, PRO. 68 Ibid. 69 79th meeting of COS, 9 September 1958, in Defe 4/11, PRO. 70 JP (58) 135, 17 October 1958, in Defe 6/52, PRO. 71 79th meeting of COS. 72 JP (58) note 28. 73 John N. Irwin, Deputy Assistant Secretary of Defense for International Security Affairs to Dulles, 28 February 1958, in FRUS, 1958–60, vol. XII, p. 43. 74 JCS memorandum for Secretary of Defense Neil H. McElroy, 9 June 1958, in Ibid, p. 556. 75 Herter to Eisenhower, 23 February 1959, in Anne Whitman files, Papers as President of the United States, International Series, Iran, 1953–59, box 31, EL; also Memorandum drafted by Herman Eilts, Officer in Charge, Baghdad Pact/CENTO Affairs, State Department, 15 April 1959, ibid., pp. 223–24. 76 Memorandum, 22 May 1959, 780.5/5–2259, RG 59, NA; also editorial note, FRUS, 1958–1960, vol. XII, p.212; and Eilts memorandum, ibid. 77 JCS to Secretary for Defense, 27 August 1959, 780.5/8–2759, box 3719, RG 59, NA; also Acting Assistant Secretary for Defense, Robert Knight, to Deputy Under Secretary of State Robert Murphy, 31 August 1959, pp. 235–36, note 2, p. 236; and Under Secretary Dillon to Secretary Herter, pp. 237–38, FRUS, 1958–1960, vol. XII. 78 See undated memorandum, JCSM-449–60, vol. XII. pp. 281–85, in FRUS, 1958–60, vol. XII. 79 Ibid. 80 Ibid. 81 JCS to Secretary for Defense, 27 August 1959, 780.5/8–2759, box 3719, RG 59, NA; also, p. 284, note 1 ibid. 82 Minutes in PPS files, Lot 67 D 548, State–JCS Meetings, cited in ibid., editorial note, p. 245. CONCLUSION 1 JIC (59) 66, 14 August 1959, in Cab 158/37. 2 Note by Dr Plans, GB Strategy in ME for the 1960s. JP (59) note 38, 14 December 1959, Defe 7/2231, and Brief of 13 October 1960, for Prime Minister MacMillan, for meeting of Defence Committee on 19 October, in Prem 11/2946, PRO. In 1960, the British had one infantry battalion at Aden for internal security and one parachute battalion that was about to replace the Royal Marine Commando, one armoured car regiment and one armoured squadron. 3 Wilbur Crane Eveland, Ropes of Sand, America’s Failure in the Middle East (New York: W.W. Norton, 1980), p. 354. 4 COS (57) 165, 12 July 1957, in Defe 5/76; also Air 8/2052, PRO.

260

NOTES

5 Israel’s permision for the overflights was obtained through Washington’s intervention, following Israel’s initial protests when British aircraft overflew Israeli airspace without prior permission. 6 NSC meeting, 22 January 1958, and NSC Planning Board Paper, 29 July 1958, in Foreign Relations of the United States, 1958–60, vol. XII, (US Government Printing Office, Washington, DC: 1993), pp. 8, 119. 7 Criticism of the US in Eveland, Ropes of Sand; and of the UK in John Kent (ed.), British Documents on the End of Empire, Series, B. vol. 4, Egypt and the Defence of the Middle East (London: The Stationery Office, 1998).

261

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Primary sources: Unpublished England The Public Record Office, London (PRO) Air 6 Air 8 Air 75 Cab 127 Cab 128 Cab 131 Cab 133 Cab 158 Cab 176 Defe 4 Defe 5 Defe 6 Defe 7 Defe 11 Defe 13 Defe 20 Defe 32 FO 115 FO 141 FO 371 Prem 8,11

Air Board and Air Council Chiefs of the Air Staff Private Papers of Sir John Slessor Cabinet meetings Cabinet memoranda Defence Committee Commonwealth and International conferences Joint Intelligence Committee reports Joint Intelligence Committee Secretariat Chiefs of Staff: meetings Chiefs of Staff: memoranda Joint Planning Staff: memoranda Ministry for the Coordination of Defence Chiefs of Staffs Committee: Registered Files Minister of Defence: Private Office Files British Joint Staff Mission, Washington, DC Chiefs of Staff, Secretary’s Standard Files British Embassy Files, Washington, DC Embassy and Consular Files, Egypt Foreign Office: Political correspondence Prime Minister’s Office: correspondence, papers

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268

INDEX

Abdullah, Emir 27, 55 ‘Agreement for Friendly Cooperation’ 30 ‘air barrier’ 186, 216 Alacrity plan 58 Al Ahmadi Oil Complex 201–2 Aldrich, Winthrop 77 al-Hakim Amr, ‘Abd 99, 100, 101 Allen, George 207 Allies: economic interests in Middle East 2, 31–3, 215; nuclear strategy in Middle East 45–6, 122–5, 211–12; response to Czech arms deal 60–6; strategic interest in Iran 92–4; strategic interest in Middle East 1–2; strategy for Middle East 2–3, 68, 211 al-Majali, Hazza 100 Alpha plan 62–5, 147 al-Sadat, Anwar 99, 100, 101 Anderson, Robert 64–5, 137 Anderson mission see ‘Gamma’ mission Anglo-American: bilateral talks, 1955 115–17; diplomatic crisis 169–73; military staff talks, 1956 148–54; nuclear cooperation 9–17, 45, 185–6; rapprochement 182–6 Anglo-French-Israel Sèvres Agreement 154, 159, 163 Anglo-Iraqi treaty, 1930 29 Anglo-Jordanian mutual defence treaty 55, 56, 104 Arab–Israeli conflict 49, 135–8; Allied intervention plans 146–54; American intervention plans 138–40; British intervention plans 140–6 Arab League Mutual Security Pact (ALMSP) 103 Arab Legion 29, 56, 95–6

Aswan Dam project 64, 65–6 atomic bomb 6 Baghdad Pact 2–3, 94–5, 187, 189–91, 216, 217; American commitment 174–9, 206–10, 216–17; Anglo-American differences 86–91, 99; Britain joins 84–6; British commitment 129–34; military commitment 191–4; military planning 125–9; see also Central Treaty Organization Baghdad Pact Ministerial Council 71, 125–6 Barnes, Verdi B. 180 Bayar, Çelal 97 Ben-Gurion, David 137, 150, 154 Bennett, Sir John Sterndale 86 Bermuda Summit, 1957 183, 184–5, 187–8 Berry, J.L. 90 Bowie, Robert 176–7 Boyle, Dermot 13 Bradley, Omar N. 10 Bulganin, Nikolai 170 Buraimi Oasis crisis 184–5 Burke, Arleigh 161, 164, 166, 176 Bush, J.D. 34 Byroade, Henry 99, 147 Caccia, Sir Harold 53 Caraway, Forrest 125 Carney, Robert B. 115–16 Cassady, John H. 109, 125, 126, 147 ‘Catapult’ operation see ‘Cordage’ operation Central Treaty Organization (CENTO) 207, 213–14 Challe, Maurice 163

269

I NDEX

‘forward concept’ see ‘Levant–Iraq’ strategy ‘forward defensive’ strategy 44–5 Fuchs, Klaus 10, 185

Chamoun, Camille 199–200 Churchill, Winston 12, 25, 27 Cockcroft, Sir John 205 ‘Cordage’ operation 57, 160, 161 ‘Cryptodiplomacy’ 69 Cutler, Robert 196 Cyprus: British strategic interest in 121, 187 Czech arms deal 60, 215 Dayan, Moshe 154 Dean, Patrick 33, 35, 36, 149 Dickson, Sir William 12, 34, 35, 138, 143, 144, 148, 149, 151, 171–2, 217 Dixon, Bob 163 Duke, Charles 96, 98 Dulles, Allen 60, 65, 198, 203 Dulles, John 20, 21–2, 32–3, 51, 59, 60, 61, 62, 63, 66, 67–8, 69–70, 72–3, 75, 76, 78–9, 80–1, 82, 87, 88, 90, 99, 100, 102, 137, 138, 139, 144, 147, 148, 149, 151, 155, 159, 164, 165, 166, 171, 172, 174, 175, 176, 177, 178, 179–80, 184, 185, 187, 190–1, 196, 198, 199, 200, 203, 204, 206, 207, 208, 218 Eden, Anthony 63, 65, 68–9, 70, 86, 90, 99, 148, 154, 155, 156, 157, 159, 160, 161–3, 164, 168, 169, 171, 172, 217 Eden/Lloyd talks 146 Egypt 3, 24–5, 136–8; American aid 59–60, 62; British military intervention plans against 143–6; evacuation of British troops 25–7, 34; retaliatory raids against Israel 149–50; Soviet military aid 60 Eisenhower, Dwight 7, 9, 14, 17, 18, 21, 23, 50–1, 53, 76, 90, 102, 138, 146, 148, 150, 154, 156–7, 164, 165, 166, 171, 180, 184, 185, 187, 195–6, 199, 200, 203, 208 Eisenhower Doctrine 177, 179–82 Eisenhower–Dulles relationship 67–8 Eisenhower–MacMillan relationship 183 Elath, Eliahu 61 Elbruz: strategic importance 109–10, 127–8, 194–7 Elliot, Sir William 13 ‘Encounter’ operation see ‘Cordage’ operation Erdelhun, R. 109 Eveland, Wilbur Crane 75, 77, 78

Gallman, Waldemar J. 69, 72, 82, 125 ‘Gamma’ mission 64–5, 147 Garvey, Terence W. 182 Gazier, Albert 162 Global Strategy Paper (GSP) 10 Glubb, Sir John 56, 95, 98, 142, 147 Greene, Joseph N., Jr. 207 Greunther, Alfred M. 171, 172, 217 Hammarskjöld, Dag 150 Harding, Sir John 38, 39 Hashemite Kingdom of Jordan see Jordan Head, Anthony 187 Henderson, Loy 71, 72, 92, 126, 185 Herter, Christian 213 Hoover, Herbert, Jr. 89, 116 Humphrey, George M. 53 Hussein, King 55, 56, 97, 100, 102, 104, 105, 142, 147, 200 hydrogen bomb 25 intercontinental ballistic missiles (ICBMs) 7 Iran 91–2; American military aid 194–5; American strategic interests in 213; and Baghdad Pact 127–8, 191 Iraq 29–31, 77, 79; American military aid 179; Anglo-American military aid 89–91; and Baghdad Pact 207, 210; military commitment to Pact 193; military coup, 1958 198; nations’ reactions to coup 199–201, 203, 205–6 Iraqi–Turkish pact 82–3 Ireland, P.W. 80 ‘Islamic Pact’ 179 Israel 50, 136–8, 218; American policy towards 50–2, 53, 137; Anglo-American military aid 151–2; anticipated aggression against Jordan 57–8, 136; British military intervention plans 141–3; British policy towards 52–5, 218; raids against Syria 137; sale of French arms to 54–5, 152 Ivelaw, P. 109

270

I NDEX

Jordan 27; American aid 180–1; and Baghdad Pact 96–102; British military aid 98–9; British military policy towards 55–6, 59, 102; British subsidies 28–9; end of British tenure in 102–5, 121; Palestinian refugees in 27–8 JOI 36 201–2

Murphy, Robert 146, 177 ‘Musketeer’ operation 158–61 ‘Mussolini on the Nile’ 157 Mutual Defense Assistance Act (MDAA) 60 Mutual Defense Assistance Program (MDAP) 39 ‘Mutually Assured Destruction’ (MAD) 20

Keightley, Sir Charles F. 156, 159, 163, 168, 169, 170 Khan, Ayub 76, 77 Kirkpatrick, Sir Ivonne 141, 147 Kohler, Foy 206 Kuwait 201 (Map); oil production 31; plans for military occupation of 201–2, 203–4

Nasser 60, 61, 63, 64, 66, 81, 82, 83, 84, 85–6, 87, 88, 96, 99, 101, 102, 136, 139, 143, 144, 147, 148, 149, 154, 157–8, 163, 164, 166, 183, 184, 198, 205, 215, 217 Nasser–Nuri Said relationship 81, 83, 85 ‘New look’ strategy 5, 17–23 Nixon, Richard 139 North Atlantic Treaty Organisation (NATO): military planning 4–6, 8 Northern Tier xii–xiii (Map), 2, 25, 67, 73, 75–6, 91, 94 NSC 5428 23, 138, 139 NSC 5703 195 nuclear arms race 7–9 Nuclear Centre, Baghdad 205–6 nuclear deterrent/shield 211–12 Nuri Said 27, 30–1, 77, 79–80, 81, 82, 83, 84–5, 88, 89, 101, 162, 179, 198, 217 Nutting, Anthony 163

Lebanon 199–200 Lemnitzer, Lyman L. 209 ‘Levant–Iraq’ strategy 46–8 Libya 120–1 Lisbon force goals 5, 10 Lloyd, Selwyn 54, 66, 159, 171, 177, 180, 186, 203, 205, 207 ‘Locket’ plan 41 Lovett, Robert 13 McElroy, Neil H. 209 McGhee, George 73, 74, 75 MacMahon Atomic Energy Act 9, 186 Macmillan, Harold 15, 16, 25, 61, 68, 86, 90, 98, 99, 101, 119, 125, 141, 155, 158, 171, 172, 187–8, 200, 207, 208, 218 Makins, Sir Roger 89, 116–17 MC 48 8, 9 Menderes, Adnan 74, 82 Meyers, Harry F. 77 Middle East xii–xiii (Map); AngloAmerican differences on 106–7; Soviet threat to 110–11; strategic importance of 215–16 Middle East Air Force (MEAF), British 41, 102, 189 Middle East Command (MEC) 39 Middle East Defence Organization (MEDO) 39 Middle East Emergency Plan 191–2 ‘Mobile Reserve Concept’ 38 ‘mobile strategy’ 2 Mossadigh, Mohammed 92 Mountbatten, Earl Louis 16, 27, 161, 164, 166

Oil: economic asset 31–3 Omega plan 65, 148 Operation Ajax 92 Operation Stockpile 151 Operation Whiplash 151, 153 Pahlevi, Mohammed Riza 92 Pakistan: American military aid to 76; and Baghdad Pact 91, 127, 190; military commitment to Pact 193 Pakistan–Turkish Pact 74–5, 76–8 Palestinian refugees 27–8 Pelly, Sir Claude 85 Qasim, Abdul Karim 198, 200 Radford, Arthur W. 17–18, 33, 71, 108, 115, 116, 122, 123, 139, 147, 149, 164, 176, 177, 195–6 Ridgway, Mathew 18 ‘Rodeo’ 26 Rose, Michael 99 Roundtree, William 206 Royal Air Force (RAF) 14, 17, 34, 58

271

I NDEX

Salem, Salah 80, 81 Sandys, Duncan 16, 183 Sandys’ White paper 15–16, 187–8 Saud, King 119, 183, 184, 185 ‘schizophrenic policy’ 158 ‘security politics of the nuclear age’ 4 Sersank Talks 80–2 Sharett, Moshe 137 Shuckburgh, Evelyn 53, 55, 60, 61, 63, 68, 86, 120, 141, 147, 157, 218 Silver, Abba Hillel 51 Slessor, Sir John 10, 11, 14, 69, 135, 155, 156, 157 South East Asia Treaty Organisation (SEATO) 78 Soviet Union 24; anticipated offensive strategy in Middle East 42–5; and Middle East 215; military strength 5–6; missile systems 21; threat to Middle East 41–2 Sputnik 7, 9 Stalin, Josef 6 Stockwell, Sir Hugh 159, 163 Strategic Air Command (SAC) 17, 19 Suez Canal: British plans to reoccupy 158–60, 161–3; British reaction to nationalization of 157–8; strategic importance of 24–5 Suez operation 217; American reaction to 164–7; Anglo-American differences on 155–7; ramifications of 167–73 Syria: Israel’s raids against 137 Taylor, Maxwell D. 18 Templar, Sir Gerald 16, 99, 100, 142, 161 Templar mission 100–2 thermonuclear weapons 7–8 Trevelyan, Hugh 185 Tripartite Declaration, 1950 54 Tripartite staff talks 108–9; Allies’ force contribution 111–14; deployment of nuclear weapons 114–15 Truman, Harry 50 Truman Doctrine 180 ‘Truman tradition’ 50, 51 Tucker, Henry P. 129, 176 Turkey 97; American strategic interests in 73–4; and Baghdad Pact 189–90 Twining, Nathan 17, 19, 148, 181, 192

United Kingdom: and Baghdad Pact 3, 84–6; contingency plans for Jordan 57–9; defence budget 14–16; economic interests in Middle East 31–2, 216; end of tenure in Jordan 102–5; evacuation of troops from Egypt 25–7, 34; ‘facade’ of power in Middle East 33–6; military aid to Iraq 179; military bases in Turkey 2; military commitment in Middle East 188–9; military commitment to Pact 128–34; military intervention plans in Middle East 141–6; military policy towards Jordan 55–6; nuclear deterrence 10–17; nuclear weapons development 7–8; redeployment of forces in Middle East 38–41, 57; strategic interests in Cyprus 121; strategic interests in Egypt 24–6; strategic interests in Iraq 29–31, 46–8; strategic interests in Israel 50, 52; strategic interests in Jordan 27–9; strategic interests in Middle East 41, 118–21, 132, 186–7; strategic policy towards Israel 52–5; strategy against Soviet Union 6, 37; subsidies to Jordan 28–9 United States: aid to Egypt 59–60, 62; aid to Iraq 179; aid to Jordan 181; aid to Pakistan 76; aircraft deployment in Britain 16; and Baghdad Pact 71–2; defence budget 19; economic interests in Middle East 32–3; military intervention in Middle East 138–40; military policy towards Middle East 70–1; and NATO 22; policy towards Israel 50–2, 53; strategic interests in Turkey 73–4; strategy against Soviet Union 6 Valiants 8 Way, R.G.K. 130 Western Europe, defence of 5 Wilkins, Fraser 177 Wilson, Charles E. 149, 174, 196 Wright, Sir Michael 84 Zagros: strategic importance 109–10

272

Strategy and Politics in the Middle East, 1954-1960: Defending the Northern Tier

The Greater Middle East in Global Politics

Rethinking Middle East Politics

Britain and the Politics of Modernization in the Middle East, 1945-1958 (Cambridge Middle East Studies)

The Middle East in International Relations: Power, Politics and Ideology (The Contemporary Middle East)

Britain and the Politics of Modernization in the Middle East, 1945-1958 (Cambridge Middle East Studies)

Faith and Power: Religion and Politics in the Middle East

Contending Visions of the Middle East: The History and Politics of Orientalism (The Contemporary Middle East)

Nabih Berri and Lebanese Politics (The Middle East in Focus)

Ethnic conflict and international politics in the Middle East

The Politics of Chaos in the Middle East

Colonialism and Revolution in the Middle East

Literature and Nation in the Middle East

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The Middle East and Palestine: Global Politics and Regional Conflict

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The Stakes: America In The Middle East

Japan in the Contemporary Middle East (Routledge Soas Series on Contemporary Politics and Culture in the Middle East)

The New Authoritarianism in the Middle East and North Africa (Indiana Series in Middle East Studies)

Negotiating Change: The New Politics of the Middle East (Library of Modern Middle East Studies)

Doing Business in the Middle East: Politics and Economic Crisis in Jordan and Kuwait (Cambridge Middle East Studies)

The Superpowers and the Middle East

The Middle East and the Trilateral Countries

Britain and Turkey in the Middle East: Politics and Influence in the Early Cold War Era

The State of the Arts in the Middle East (2009) (The Middle East Institute Viewpoints)

Workers and Peasants in the Modern Middle East (The Contemporary Middle East)

Displacement and Dispossession in the Modern Middle East (The Contemporary Middle East)

Workers and Peasants in the Modern Middle East (The Contemporary Middle East)

The Lega Nord and the Northern Question in Italian Politics

Strategy and Politics in the Middle East, 1954-1960: Defending the Northern Tier

The Greater Middle East in Global Politics

Rethinking Middle East Politics

Britain and the Politics of Modernization in the Middle East, 1945-1958 (Cambridge Middle East Studies)

The Middle East in International Relations: Power, Politics and Ideology (The Contemporary Middle East)

Britain and the Politics of Modernization in the Middle East, 1945-1958 (Cambridge Middle East Studies)

Faith and Power: Religion and Politics in the Middle East

Contending Visions of the Middle East: The History and Politics of Orientalism (The Contemporary Middle East)

Nabih Berri and Lebanese Politics (The Middle East in Focus)

Ethnic conflict and international politics in the Middle East

The Politics of Chaos in the Middle East

Colonialism and Revolution in the Middle East

Literature and Nation in the Middle East

The modern Middle East

The Middle East and Palestine: Global Politics and Regional Conflict

The Middle East and Palestine: Global Politics and Regional Conflict

Politics and Economy in Jordan (Routledge Soas Politics and Culture in the Middle East Series)

The Stakes: America In The Middle East

Japan in the Contemporary Middle East (Routledge Soas Series on Contemporary Politics and Culture in the Middle East)

The New Authoritarianism in the Middle East and North Africa (Indiana Series in Middle East Studies)

Negotiating Change: The New Politics of the Middle East (Library of Modern Middle East Studies)

Doing Business in the Middle East: Politics and Economic Crisis in Jordan and Kuwait (Cambridge Middle East Studies)

The Superpowers and the Middle East

The Middle East and the Trilateral Countries

Britain and Turkey in the Middle East: Politics and Influence in the Early Cold War Era

The State of the Arts in the Middle East (2009) (The Middle East Institute Viewpoints)

Workers and Peasants in the Modern Middle East (The Contemporary Middle East)

Displacement and Dispossession in the Modern Middle East (The Contemporary Middle East)

Workers and Peasants in the Modern Middle East (The Contemporary Middle East)

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