Текст книги "No One Sleeps in Alexandria"

Автор книги: Ibrahim Abdel Meguid

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Текущая страница: 25 (всего у книги 26 страниц)

“I saw among the soldiers on guard duty a soldier who looked like an Arab. I spoke to him in Arabic, and he responded. It turned out that he was a Libyan who had been conscripted against his will. I told him my story and saw in his eyes a sincere desire to help me. He said to me, ‘Wait a few days. I’ll see what I can do for you.’ I waited. I remembered the raid on Marsa Matruh, with the bombs exploding before my very eyes and the racket of the guns at the border and the shells raining down on the soldiers and cutting them to ribbons. I also remembered the cries of the wounded all night long in the field hospital near the camp. I was always in the rear of the English lines, but I saw hell more than once, because sometimes they pushed me up to the front with the supply team. Yes, what is hell? Isn’t it fire? You know, Sheikh Magd, I think those foreigners are actually from hell. They have hearts of iron, and every day they drop a trainful of bombs on each other. Oh God! Do you think we Egyptians could ever fight like that? We are a kind people, and we cry a lot. If we got into a war and the enemy confronted us with a sad song, we would cry and get out of the way.”

“Okay, Hamza. Don’t cry. You don’t have to finish the story today. You should rest.”

“I am rested, now that I’ve seen you again. War is very bad, Sheikh Magd. I’ve seen many soldiers get their heads blown off as they stood behind the guns. I’ve seen guns blown to bits in the air. I’ve seen soldiers suddenly go crazy and run and scream as if possessed by demons and jump up and down. Their comrades would tie them up and give them injections that put them to sleep, then ship them back to their countries. I saw so many crazies that I thought England, Italy, Germany, India, and Africa had all become great madhouses. I saw soldiers look at the sky and scream and others run and fall into the fire, committing suicide. I saw soldiers break down and cry like grieving women. The soldiers are very pitiful, Sheikh Magd. They all cry alike. They are all children that you pity. War is very bad, Dimyan. Anyway, a few days later I found them setting up another camp and a field hospital, and I saw cars carrying hundreds of wounded soldiers and big storms of dust and commotion, like it was Judgment Day. I asked the Libyan soldier, and he told me, ‘It’s your good fortune, Egyptian. The English have defeated Graziani. Wait for them. They must come here.’ And that’s exactly what happened. The English came, and they took me with the other prisoners and shipped us back to the Egyptian borders. See how the Lord works! I found myself once again in Egypt, but as a prisoner this time. But praise the Lord, I was back. They handed me over to a tall Australian corporal, very tall, so tall his legs alone were my height, I swear. He took me to the commanding officer. It was then that I learned that my height made me look suspicious to anyone who saw me – I didn’t look like a soldier, and no officer would be that short, so I must be a spy. That was the whole story, and the reason for my ordeal.

“The officer asked me who I was and what I did. I told him, Ί am Egyptian, ghalban.’ I didn’t know how to say ‘I’m just a poor little Egyptian’ in English, as my English was still lost. The officer looked at me in annoyance, but I felt stronger than I did before. Now I was on Egyptian soil, anyway. The officer had his suspicions about me, so he locked me up in a wooden room all by myself. An African soldier stood guard, and I would tell when it was night when I looked out through the cracks and couldn’t see his face, only his teeth. You know, Sheikh Magd, I felt very valuable in that locked room. I rejoiced for the first time in a long time and I remembered my wife and my children and my friends. But I still felt a need to cry. I held back my tears and remembered the sad songs:

Look at this broken, humiliated peasant

In the jaws of a crocodile from ancient times

Tell me your story, friend, and how that came to he.

“A month later they released me, and I said to myself that they must have investigated and found out I’m just a poor Egyptian, and that they were going to let me go. But it didn’t happen that way. They put me in the kitchen to cook for the soldiers, and again with the Indians – as if they knew what had happened before. I said to myself that it was okay, I had to be patient, and asked God to give me patience and He did, and I waited until I saw, with my very own eyes, the English soldiers come back from the borders, crushed by Rommel. It was the first time we heard of Rommel, who had replaced Graziani. I heard that the big English general Ritchie went crazy. I now felt that my rescue would be at the hands of Rommel. It felt strange. I was in my own country – why should I need a German commander to rescue me? But that’s what happened. I was in the kitchen one day when I saw the smoke coming out of the officers’ rooms. They were burning everything quickly and driving oft in their Jeeps and clearing out. t could hear only one word: ‘Rommel.’ Soon the camp was full of Germans, and everything around us was fire and smoke.

“The Germans took me to a high-ranking officer. I was inspired to say ‘Rommel.’ They asked me in German, I said ‘Rommel,’ in English, and I still said ‘Rommel.’ I said to myself, there must be one sane person who will get me out of this mess, which has gone on too long, and the only sane person is Rommel.’

“And they knew that you wanted to see Rommel?”

“Yes, and I did see him. He’s a strange man with a round face, green sunken eves and thinning hair. He didn’t say much. Three days later they took me to see him – three days of terror.”

Dimyan looked at Magd al-Din, saying to himself, “Hamza’s back to his old ways!”

“And in Rommel’s room, I saw a Bedouin man standing next to Rommel, who was sitting down. I told them my story from the beginning and heard the Bedouin translating it into German as Rommel smiled in surprise, his face looking like that of a little child, I swear. He said one sentence, which the Bedouin translated for me. He said that I would stay with them while they chased the English and the Eighth Army, until they reached Alexandria, where I would guide them through its streets, and then they would let me go. At that time I prayed to God that they reach Alexandria quickly. I wondered how the Bedouin knew German and said to myself he must be a spy, dressed like a Bedouin.”

“Okay, Hamza. That’s enough for today. Go to sleep.”

“Wait, Dimyan, the story is about to end. I’m sure you don’t believe me.”

“No, Hamza. It looks like you’ve suffered even more than what you just told us.”

“Afterwards, the Germans advanced to Marsa Matruh. I was at the rear with the supply crews. They assigned me to a jeep driven by a crazy driver who broke my bones by speeding over potholes, and whenever he saw me in pain, he laughed and said ‘Aegypter!’ which means Egyptian in German. I kept saying to myself, ‘Dear God, let it end well.” I was afraid of the landmines. In Marsa Matruh I saw the big battle. I saw the tanks firing, and I saw the tanks blowing up, and I saw the big guns recoiling as they were fired and the planes going and coming from the sea, and at night I heard the moans of the dying and the groans of the wounded. The whole world became a big dusty mass, all black and red. At night I sat in the dark, shrinking in on myself in fear and saying, ‘Please, God, take me now. I’ve had enough.’ But the Germans won and they entered Marsa Matruh and Daba afterwards until they came here. Alexandria was near and no one paid any attention to me. I said to myself that it did not make any sense that Rommel needed someone like me to guide him through the streets of Alexandria. I sat at night singing sad songs:

Time has given me catastrophes that aggravated my ill health.

I was so frightened I did not know what to do.

My heart told me my time was so contrary.

I sat down and wept, my eyes shed tears of blood.

“All the time I was still the crazy jeep driver’s charge. One night he drove me around for more than half an hour and pointed to the stars in the sky, then got off the car, and I followed suit. He pointed forward with his hand and said ‘Alexandria’ several times and gestured for me to go, so I walked like somebody under a spell. I quickly identified a star in front of me. I knew that the sea was to my left and that the soft steady sound I was hearing was that of the waves that I could not see. I kept walking, but after a little while I didn’t hear the sound of the sea, and the stars all looked alike. Then I remembered that armies usually laid land mines when they retreated, and I figured the English must have done that as they retreated before Rommel, and I knew that my end was near and that I would probably step on a landmine in the dark – or even in the daylight! So I sat down on the ground like a lost child and looked at the faraway sky and I said, ‘God, you can see me, and I can’t see you, you can hear me but I can’t hear you. God, I complain to you about my weakness and my lack of options. If you’re with me, please give me a break. I have suffered enough. Almighty God, all I did was stretch out my hand to get a box of cookies for my children. Do I deserve all this torture, most merciful God? Please give me a helping hand. Why are you abandoning me, once to evil enemies who have tortured and demeaned me, and now to the desert, the landmines, and the wolves? Yes, if a landmine doesn’t blow me up, a wolf will surely eat me. Where is your mercy, which encompasses the whole world? Please forgive me and help me.’ I was so tired, Sheikh Magd, that I slept where I sat. Did I sleep long? In a minute, I saw his radiant face, the face of the Prophet. He was wearing green and sitting with his companions, with radiant faces, wearing white. I greeted him, and he returned the greeting. He asked me who I was, and I said to him, Ί am Hamza, O Messenger of God.’ He smiled at me and made room for me to sit with him and said, ‘Come and sit with my friends Abu Bakr and Umar, Hamza, for your name is very dear to me.’ I sat with them, and then I woke up from my sleep rested, as if I’d slept for a hundred years. I was sure that God would help me. I felt a kind, warm hand holding mine and started to walk confidently as his voice – the Prophet’s – told me to walk to the right, and I did, then to the left, and I did. And whenever my feet sank in the sand I would be frightened, and he would tell me not to fear, and my fright would go away. I walked until morning. It was the first time I had seen the day so beautiful and sweet, and the sun so happy – yes, that’s how I saw it. I said, ‘Please God, bestow your full favor upon me,’ and as soon as I said that, I saw an Indian studier coming from out of nowhere. It was he who took me to the English headquarters, where they wondered how I survived all the minefields. They were suspicious, but I finally remembered all the English words that I had forgotten and I told them the story. They kept me for three days until they were sure I was telling the truth, and then the officer brought me to you, praise the Lord – I’ve missed you so much!”

Then Hamza could speak no more.

28

O thou the last fulfillment of my life, Death, my death,

come and whisper to me!

Day after day have I kept watch for thee;

for thee have I borne the joys and pangs of life.

Rabindranath Tagore

Hamza left them after two days of rest. He started on his way to Alexandria, going on foot until he reached al-Hammam. He refused to get on any train that had soldiers on it.

“It’s forty kilometers to al-Hammam, Hamza.”

“I’ll walk. I’m not riding with any soldiers, ever.” He said that he wanted to take the regular passenger train from al-Hammam.

Hamza walked on the railroad tracks that reached all the way to Alexandria. This was the only way to arrive safely. When Hamza disappeared in the distance, Magd al-Din and Dimyan thought about the big world and all the stories that were taking place in it. How could the world cope with all these painful stories? For several days they spoke only in whispers and said very little to each other. One evening al-Safi al-Naim came and told them that he would not be seeing them again. He had been away for a long time. He told them that a new commander named Montgomery had taken over command of the Eighth Army and that he was very strict with his troops and had devised a rigorous training program. He told them that a new war between Rommel and Monty, as the soldiers nicknamed the new commander, was imminent.

Al-Safi brought them large quantities of cheese, corned beef, tea, and cigarettes and conveyed to them the greetings of the young Indian soldiers. He told them that Bahadur Shand had been killed. Then he smiled, looking at Dimyan and telling him, “Bahadur was intent on killing you upon his return. It seems the Germans love you, Dimyan.”

Dimyan was distressed to learn that Bahadur Shand had died. He knew that it was Mari Girgis who was protecting him, but he wished he had protected him in a different manner this time, like by sending Bahadur back to India, for instance. But he quickly apologized to Mari Girgis and made the sign of the cross and said to himself that it was the war that ate up the soldiers.

Churchill had visited Egypt and met with General Alexander, the new commander in chief of the Middle East, who had replaced Auchinleck, and together they visited the Eighth Army in al-Alamein after meeting General Montgomery at his command post in Burg Al-Arab. Churchill saw for himself the changes that Monty had brought about in the soldiers. He saw a number of soldiers go down into the sea in the morning in dirty underpants. That distressed him and caused him pain, but he did not order new underpants for the soldiers. He wished the war would come to an end, and so end the soldiers’ misery. He returned with Alexander to Cairo and visited the caves at Tura, those caverns hollowed out in the mountains when the ancient Egyptians built the pyramids and which had now become secret recesses for the repair and hiding of military equipment. Churchill wished the ancient Egyptians had taken larger stones so that the English would have more secret depots for their equipment. He reviewed the preparations for the defense of Cairo if Alexandria fell with Alexander. Foremost among those preparations were the plans to flood the Delta and hinder German advances by opening the barrages and dams. He ordered that British employees all over the country be issued rifles. Then he returned to England.

Alexander promised to send him the word “zip” if fighting broke out. “Zip” was the label of Churchill’s clothes.

It was well known that Rommel would not stop at al-Alamein, and preparations were made to meet him there. Al-Alamcin had to be the last post he would reach and the first step of his retreat westward – the day should never come when plans for the defense of Cairo were implemented. The topography of the place did not leave Rommel with any room for maneuver. There was only one way – he and his armored force had to cross the minefields south of the front, in order to go north to encircle the British forces and their right flank. To do that, Rommel would have to occupy the hills of Alam al-Halfa. Therefore Monthly deployed his troops in such a way as to make the capture of those hills impossible.

There were preparations for attack and preparations for defense around Magd al-Din and Dimyan, who felt increasingly isolated. One afternoon Dimyan saw the door of the telegraph room open, and he entered the room. Aciually the door had been open since Amer had lett, but Dimyan saw it as it for the first time. There was nothing in the room but an old, open wooden cabinet containing dirty yellowish notepads of all sizes and scattered pieces of paper on the shelves and the floor. There was also a dusty, faded table on which sat the transmitter and receiver, which suddenly came to life and began to make successive clicking sounds. Magd al-Din was nearby on the platform, and Dimyan quickly called him over, and he did, just in time to see and hear the last clicks of the machine. Then there was silence.

“I wonder who was sending a telegram?” Dimyan asked as Magd al-Din’s thoughts strayed far away as they walked over to their house. The days were now passing in silence, a silence that enveloped the whole desert, on which a heavy ominous gloom descended, making the very air heavy. The long lines of armored cars moving all day did not succeed in dispelling the silence, nor did the movement of the planes which came out, then went quickly back to the sea and the cast, the English and American planes that apparently were training for the coming battle. The traffic of armament trains driven by Indians increased, and the trains were now going back without soldiers – there were no sick leaves or furloughs. The soldiers milled silently around the trains carrying tanks, guns, and ammunition, taking their equipment to the vast desert that seemed to swallow everything. Silence was now the sensation that wrappeed itself around Magd al-Din and Dimyan and permeated everything around them, living and inanimate. Even the sun began to move farther away, opening up the vast expanse around them to even more silence and devastation. Magd al-Din saw the dusty clock in the stationmaster’s room, which had stopped working. He stopped making the call to prayers. Everything here had grown old, foretelling the end. But, so as not to lose track of the time, he planted a stick near the kiosk at the crossing. It was noon when its shadow disappeared, and midafternoon when a long shadow formed to the cast, and sunset when the length of the shadow doubled. As for the time of the last prayer at night, he did not need to find that out, since he usually prayed late at night, One night, close to dawn after the desert night had set up its tent to cover the whole world without a sound except the indistinct noises of unseen insects, Dimyan, who now realized that he had been harboring a desire not to stay there in the desert, suddenly asked, “What’s happening, Sheikh Magd?”

By that he meant the increased movement of the trains carrying armament and of the planes during the day and sometimes at night. Magd al-Din was reciting the Quran, and now he raised his voice, “We surely shall test you with some fear and some hunger and loss of wealth and lives and crops, hut give glad tidings to the steadfast. Those who, when a calamity befalls them, say ‘To God we truly belong and to him surely we shall return.”’ He stopped to respond to Dimyan, “It must be that the war is about to break out, Dimyan.”

Dimyan sensed a little irritation in Magd al-Din’s tone of voice, an irritation that he had not noticed before. Was that the first time that Magd al-Din realized there was a war going on?

“If the war breaks out while we’re here, we will die, Sheikh Magd,” Dimyan said.

Magd al-Din, quoting the Quran, said, “And when my servants ask you about Me, I am surely near, and I answer the prayers of every supplicant when he calls unto Me…”

Dimyan fell silent and Magd al-Din continued, “Say, 7 have no power to harm or benefit myself except as God wills. ‘ For every nation there is an appointed time. When its time comes, they can neither put it off for an hour nor hasten it.”

“You’re scaring me tonight, Sheikh Magd. I see Mari Girgis every night saving himself from the fire, and now you’re scaring me too. Besides, why won’t you stop staring at my face? What’s in my face? I’ve looked at it in the mirror several times and saw it was pale and yellow. Am I going to die here? We’ve got to run away. If you don’t run away with me in the morning, I’ll go alone. I came back for your sake, but you’re letting me down. Do you know what the telegraph clicks that we heard mean? That was a message for us to leave this place. It couldn’t have been anything else. If that message didn’t come from the Railroad Authority, it must have been from God. Do you have any other explanation? Why don’t you answer me?”

The answer came from a distance, sounds of successive colossal explosions, as if the whole sky was tumbling down to earth, and a vast flash of red lit up the sky. “Oh my God! What’s that, Sheikh Magd?”

There were sounds of thin sharp lengthy screeching, the sound of missiles flying from the ground and falling from the sky. The ground rose and fell under Magd al-Din and Dimyan, so they got up in a panic and moved away from the house, looking at the fire lighting up the night, as the earth shook under their feet.

Rommel had just finished writing a letter to his wife, “Dear Lu, we have some severe shortages and disadvantages, but I took the risk. If our blow is successful, it will determine the outcome of the whole war.”

General Alexander had sent the word ‘zip’ to Churchill from Cairo. Monty was confident about his defense plan. There were four hundred German tanks, half of which were equipped with the diabolical seventy-five-millimeter guns. Awaiting them were seven hundred British and American tanks. Rommel’s usual tactics were to attack the enemy forces quickly with a small force, encircle them, then try to liquidate them. The German planes began their raids on the forces in front and at the rear simultaneously to confuse and disorient them.

“The shelling is far away, Dimyan. Don’t be afraid.”

Dimyan was busy reciting prayers or incantations, of which Magd al-Din would make out only a few words: ‘Kyrie eleison,’ ‘Georgius,’ ‘Jesus,’ ‘Yuannis,’ ‘Yusab,’ ‘Kirullus,’ and ‘the Virgin.’ Dimyan, shaking, made it back to the house, followed by Magd al-Din. As soon as they were there, Dimyan collapsed and stretched out on the floor with his back against the wall. Magd al-Din stretched out near him and lit a cigarette for himself and one for Dimyan, pretending to be composed.

“There’s a lot of light,” he smiled. “I don’t think the Germans will notice a cigarette in the middle of all this shelling.”

They kept smoking is silence. Magd al-Din noticed that neither he nor Dimyan had taken off their work clothes. They even had their shoes on. They had been returning from the station a short time ago when an ammunition train arrived just before the shelling began.

The formations of Royal Tanks and Royal Scotch were defending the Alam al-Halfa plateau against the German armored offensive. The German planes had stopped for a while, but as daylight approached, they returned with a vengeance and started bombing everywhere again. From the north and the east, British and American planes came, and an intense air battle ensued and ended soon. The planes of the Allies went back to their posts in Alexandria and the Delta and to the American aircraft carrier in the Mediterranean. The German and Italian planes went back to their airports in the desert, only to return after a short while in greater numbers, going deep to the rear lines of the Eighth Army, extremely close to the railroad station and the abandoned houses, and to Magd al-Din and Dimyan. A wind swept them off their feet, and they hit the ground hard. A powerful bomb had fallen from the sky, making the air convulse around them and hurling them off their feet. Magd al-Din saw Zahra’s face, which he had almost forgotten, and he heard her scream. He shouted in a hoarse-voice “Dimyan!” but did not hear an answer. Dimyan was some distance away, looking around for Magd al-Din. When Magd al-Din saw him he went over to him.

“Are you all right?” Magd al-Din asked him.

“No.”

“Were you hit?”

“No.”

Magd al-Din understood what Dimyan meant, and he fell silent.

“Does our presence here make any sense any more?” asked Dimyan in despair.

Another shell fell near them, and even though it was not strong enough to knock them off their feet again, Magd al-Dm shouted,

“Come on, Dimyan.”

They found themselves hurrying up near the station between the tracks going cast. From behind they could hear the falling bombs and the airplanes, and they went even faster. When they had moved quite a distance away from the station, they heard a harrowing explosion that shook the air and caused them to lose their balance. They fell on the crossties, and hellish flames lit up the whole world. They realized it was the end. Dimyan remembered his nightmarish vision, and he resigned himself to death. Magd al-Din longed for his son Shawqi, whom he had never even seen. They saw, however, that the flames were far away, and when they were able to see the red sky, they realized that the explosion was at the station. After they regained their balance and could see more clearly, they saw the train that had stopped at the station. All its cars were turning into a river of fire that the German planes kept fueling. They saw the two wooden kiosks – the station-master’s room and the telegraph room– burning and flying in the air and turning into ashes. Everything was turning into ashes. Most merciful God! Eternal, living God, help us! Jesus, Mary, Prophet of God, help us, save us! They started running again.

They kept on running, never feeling hunger or pain from wounds or bruises they had suffered when the explosions threw them to the ground. And what a beautiful new day! This river of milk that was beginning to light up the dark and wash away the night. This world that God has created was so beautiful, why was it that people were destroying it? The planes kept on coming from the east and from the west, engaging in short dogfights, then disappearing only to appear again and again. The German planes bombed everything in sight until a new dogfight started. In the meantime Magd al-Din and Dimyan kept on running, sweat pouring out of every pore of their bodies and their skin and chests burning, their feet almost giving way, but who could stop in the midst of all those fires?

“I am flying, Dimyan!”

Dimyan heard and saw Magd al-Din next to him.

“And I am flying too, Magd al-Din!”

“My God, I am not running – I am flying, Dimyan!”

“And so am I, Magd al-Din!”

What bird was now carrying them on its wings! It must be the angel Gabriel, the very one who brought the good tidings to the Messenger of God. It was he who also brought the Virgin Mary tidings of her immaculate conception. Their breathing was now inaudible, they were almost anesthetized, asleep on calm waves. The bird was carrying them gently into space, their sweat was drying, and they were drinking a magic potion that imbued their veins with a secret delight. Was Gabriel taking them to Alexandria or to God in the high heavens? They were both certain of a safe end.

The distance from al-Alamein to al-Hammam is forty kilometers. Throughout that distance a god-like strength possessed Magd al-Din and Dimyan. The bombing and shelling behind them would stop, only to resume again. The battle for the hills of Alam al-Halfa was not over yet. Rommel knew that Monty’s headquarters was in Burg al-Arab and that his strategic cache of vehicles and equipment had to be attacked.

The sun had ascended the sky and gone past Magd al-Din and Dimyan and now to the German Front. All the time they felt nothing other than being carried on the wings of Gabriel. They even fell asleep while running. Had there been no train waiting at al-Hammam they would have kept on running all the way to Alexandria. How was it that they felt no hunger and no thirst? The bombing and shelling had subsided as evening settled on the second day. The civilian train stood empty at the station, which also was empty of people. The last car of the train was the one closest to them, and they got on and sat down on the first seat. The sounds of the guns roared again, and the train got ready to depart as they heaved a long and deep sigh of relief. What a good omen! They looked at each other in contentment and fell into a deep sleep.

Was it one moment? An hour? A whole lifetime that they slept? Whatever it was it was long enough for them to feel somewhat rested. It was impossible for them to remain asleep in the midst of the roar of the guns that were let loose with the new evening. Dimyan was thirsty, so he went through the other cars to look for water. In a corner he found a tap and turned it on. The water was yellowish and rusty, but he drank it anyway and went back. The train was completely empty and dark except for the moonlight coming through the broken windows.

“We’ve won, Sheikh Magd. I now realize that the nightmare in which I saw Mari Girgis engulfed by flames was nothing but the devil’s work.”

“The Lord be praised for everything, Dimyan.”

The train began to rattle, and the sounds of explosions drew nearer and fear returned to their eyes, but then the train started to run smoothly, and the sounds of explosions grew distant as the train’s speed increased.

“The train engineer must be Indian!”

“The Indians don’t operate civilian trains.”

“But he’s going at a crazy speed.”

“If only he’d go faster, Dimyan. Where did you find the drinking water?”

“In the fifth car. It’s been standing for a long time, but I drank it.”

“I’m going to get a drink of water and I’m coming right back. Wait for me.”

Dimyan smiled in surprise. Where could he go?

Magd al-Din hurried to get a drink. Why was he hurrying? He was being rattled hard between the empty seats as the train kept swaying unevenly. He reached the tap, turned it on, and filled his cupped hand with its yellow rusty water and drank it. The sound of explosions drew near, the train shook so violently that Magd al-Din lost his balance and fell on a nearby seat, his head hitting the back of the seat so hard it almost split open. He could not keep his balance seated either. He got up and the train was swaying violently from side to side, so he kept tumbling down and hitting the seats on either side. He shouted, “Dimyan,” and from the open windows he saw shells landing not far from the train and stirring the dust and stones, which hit the sides of the train. He fell down between the two rows of seats. The aisle was narrow, so he stayed down, stretched out and holding on to the underside of the seats so the rattling of the train did not hurt him. He realized that assuming a crucified posture was the best option for someone in his situation. Dimyan had also come to the same conclusion, but the car he was in shook more violently since it was the tail end of the train. At the same time that Dimyan was saying, “Merciful Lord and Savior of all who was made flesh for us here for our salvation, who lit the way for us, sinners, who fasted for us forty days and forty nights, who saved us from death,” Magd al-Din was reciting from the Quran, “. that man can only attain that for which he strives; that his striving will he noted; that it will he fully rewarded; that your Lord is the ultimate goal; that it is He who grants laughter and tears; that it is He who gives death and life; that it is He who has created in pairs, male and female; from a seed when it is poured forth; that it is up to Him to ordain the second coming to life.” The train swayed violently, shaking, its wheels thundering, as the shells kept coming, landing not far from it now. “This one of the early warning signs; the threatened hour is near; no one hut God can disclose it.” The light of the bombs entered the train car, which was already lit by a faint moonlight. The train swayed more violently than ever. A crash was heard, then something heavy being dragged on the ground and hitting against the crossties and the tracks. The train jumped up several times and swayed to right and left. One of the cars that had received a direct hit, and resisted being separated from the rest of the train, was being dragged along the ground. “Dimyan! Dimyan!” Magd al-Din could not stand up. The train could overturn if the car did not separate or if the train did not stop. But it did not stop, and the car did not separate.