Looking about the briefing room, Uvarov casually studied the Libyan commanders and staff officers gathered there. They were a mixed lot. The regular army officers, in uniform, with rank and badges properly placed, at least gave the appearance of paying attention to the situation update. The leaders of the Revolutionary Guard and militia units, dressed in assorted shades of tan and khaki with no emblems, were not interested in the briefing or in what the regular army officers had to say. They showed their disdain for the proceedings and for their army counterparts by sleeping, staring blankly at the ceiling, or carrying on a conversation with the nearest fellow Guardsman.
Uvarov himself did not listen to the briefing. He had little need to listen, as it was given in Arabic and, though he did have a translator seated behind him, Uvarov had already been briefed on the current situation by his own staff. Besides, much of what was said was old and clouded by half-truths or downright lies. Uvarov was appalled at how effectively the Libyans could delude themselves, creating elaborate fantasies that bore no resemblance to the actual situation on the ground. The map that the briefer used to update Colonel Nafissi showed Libyan units in positions that Uvarov knew had long since been overrun by Egyptian units. Some Libyan units still shown on the map had already ceased to exist.
After an earlier briefing, Uvarov had taken Nafissi to one side and pointed these problems out. As the translator told Nafissi what Uvarov had said, the colonel had a concerned look on his face. When the translator had finished, Nafissi thought about what Uvarov had told him, then smiled. Such errors were to be expected, he said simply. "After all," he told Uvarov, "there is a great deal of confusion in war. You know, fog of battle and friction of war. I wouldn't concern myself with a few minor discrepancies in one or two reports." After that, nothing could surprise Uvarov. At least that is what he thought.
As if to underscore this point, two staff officers, a Libyan followed seconds later by a Soviet, came into the conference room. The Libyan handed Nafissi a report concerning the air raid that was still ongoing from the commander of the air defense units around Tobruk. The Soviet officer handed Uvarov a similar report from the Soviet 11–76 AWACS. As he read the note, a broad grin lit across Nafissi's face. Turning to his staff and commanders, he triumphantly announced that eight aircraft had been brought down in the air battle. The assembled officers smiled and congratulated themselves on another victory over the Egyptians.
Uvarov, after listening to the translation of Nafissi's comments, read his officer's report. Surprisingly, the number of aircraft shot down was correct. Eight aircraft had been brought down. Not surprising was that Nafissi had neglected to tell his own people that six of them were Libyan — and of those six, two had been brought down by the Libyan ground-based surface-to-air missiles, fired indiscriminately. Turning to the officer who had handed him the message, Uvarov looked him in the eye questioningly. The staff officer merely shrugged his shoulders and looked down at the ground. What more could he say? Nothing that he could do would alter the sad state of affairs. Turning back to Nafissi, Uvarov locked eyes with the colonel. For a moment they stared at each other. There was no trust between them, no common ground for understanding — only distrust and contempt. After several seconds Nafissi smiled, turned back to the briefer, and signaled him to continue.
Like his staff officer, Uvarov knew there was nothing he could do, even if he had had the desire, which he didn't. It was still the Libyans' fight. For the moment the Soviets were spectators, a second-string team waiting on the sidelines. The situation he was in, politically, tactically, and logistically, was deplorable. Not only were the Libyans lying to the Soviets about everything from the tactical situation to supplies that needed to be delivered, they were lying to themselves. The best Uvarov could hope for was that the Egyptians would not venture beyond Tobruk. So long as the Egyptians remained east of the Gulf of Bomba, Uvarov's orders from Moscow were to keep his North African Front out of the fight.
Tiring of the briefing, Nafissi signaled an end to it. He stood to go, then stopped and walked up to the map at the front of the room with one of his commanders. For several minutes they discussed in hushed voices the disposition of some of the Libyan forces. Uvarov remained seated, watching Nafissi as he waited for an opportunity to speak to him. Uvarov turned to his aide and asked who the Libyan commander was. The aide replied that it was the commander of the Libyan artillery and rocket troops, a Colonel Radin. Nafissi, finished with Radin, began to walk over to the tall Russian general. Uvarov stood and was about to speak when a Libyan staff officer slid in between Uvarov and Nafissi.
Turning his back to the Russian general, the Libyan officer leaned over Nafissi's shoulder and whispered in the colonel's ear. As he spoke, Nafissi's face betrayed surprise, then agitation. When he finished, the staff officer stepped back and waited for Nafissi's instructions. For a moment Nafissi was lost in thought, troubled by whatever it was the officer had reported. Taking a deep breath, Nafissi stood erect, then turned toward Radin. Nafissi snapped at him, ordering him to report to him in his private office, then stormed out of the conference room, followed quickly by the staff officer and Radin.
To his translator Uvarov whispered, "Find out what that was all about."
Nafissi didn't even wait until the door to his office was closed before he turned on Radin, calling him an idiot and a fool, incapable of command. Puzzled by the sudden shower of abuse, Radin stood there dumbfounded. Though he, like Nafissi, was a colonel, he did not belong to the Revolutionary Council. Nafissi's authority and power far transcended that of an ordinary colonel. At that moment Nafissi was, by order of the Revolutionary Council, commander of all forces in the Cyrenaica. He had the undisputed power of life and death — a power he had already used to punish two commanders who had abandoned their posts without orders. So long as he carried out the tasks assigned to him by the council, no one would question his methods. By the same token, it was well known that if he failed, the council would have no reservations about punishing him in the same ruthless manner in which Nafissi himself dealt with those who failed.
Finished with his tirade, Nafissi walked around behind his desk, sat down, and waited for Radin to respond. Seeing that Radin didn't know what was going on, the staff officer came up from behind. "Colonel Radin, ten minutes ago we received word that a battalion of the 2nd Rocket Brigade was overrun at Kambut. All equipment, personnel, and munitions were lost."
As the shock of what he had been told began to sink in, the color began to drain from Radin's face. For several seconds he tried to think of something to say, some way he could disassociate himself from the calamity that had befallen one of his key units. But nothing came to him. A heavy, oppressive silence hung in the room as Radin's mind raced and stumbled over disjointed thoughts. Through the stupidity of one of his battalion commanders, not only had a critical unit been lost, but the contents of the warheads on FROG-7 rockets were no doubt now known to the Egyptians.
Impatient, Nafissi broke the silence by pounding his fist on his desk and yelling. "The order was to hold all surface-to-surface rocket brigades back, away from the frontier. If you remember, our plan — the one which you yourself developed — called for the initiation of chemical warfare only after the Egyptian forces were well within our own borders. There was no reason for that unit to be that far forward." Pounding his fist even harder, he repeated, "No reason."