A Million Hushes

Egyptian small fry zestfully played a new game. The kid who was "it" would walk down the street with a stick over his shoulder, imitating a British soldier. The others would sneak up behind, belabor him violently and grab his "rifle," shouting, "Die, Inglesi!"

It wasn't that kind of child's play in the Suez Canal zone city of Ismailia. There a fight broke out in front of Egyptian police headquarters. Four British army officers, seven Egyptian cops and four civilians were killed. After order was restored, a truce was arranged: the Egyptians agreed to disarm their police, the British promised to evacuate the military families from Ismailia as quickly as possible. Both sides seemed eager to avoid trouble. The women were clearing out; it was unwise to be out after dark or to go off limits; a clap of the hands no longer brought native servants on the trot.

Lecture at Lunch. In Egypt proper, King Farouk began showing some of the good sense he has been credited with. Back from his spectacular honeymoon, he summoned his ministers to lunch, let them know he wasn't pleased with events. He told Premier Nahas Pasha that if Foreign Minister Salah el Din started making loud speeches at the Paris U.N. meeting, he would recall him. He sarcastically asked his Waidist cabinet members just how they reconciled their party's anti-Communist position with their Foreign Minister's "making Communist propaganda." Moreover, said Farouk, he didn't like this business of allowing political parties to form their own ragtail "liberation battalions." He wound up by telling the Wafdists that he thought their party was shrinking in power.

One day last week, Farouk got into his red Rolls-Royce and, convoyed by nine red jeeps, ten red motorcycles and three red Cadillacs, sped off to open Parliament. It was the first royal address since Egypt abrogated its treaty with Britain. Solemnly, Farouk handed the ribbon-tied speech to aging Premier Nahas, who quavered through it for 40 minutes. Beyond acknowledging that abrogation was an "accomplished fact" and that Egypt would proceed accordingly, "without hesitation or delay," the government made no concessions to the fanatic nationalists. It did not reject the West's Middle East Command proposal. As Nahas read, the King sat composedly, fondling a pair of grey gloves. When it was over, he coughed, tapped his foot until Nahas hastily handed back the document. For the moment at least, Farouk was truly King.

Silent Parade. Interior Minister Serag el Din called in the Cairo press, read them a lecture on falsifying the news with their absurd stories of British atrocities. He announced that the ragtail "liberation battalions" would be absorbed into the regular army, where the authorities could keep an eye on them.

In Cairo, the government allowed the first public demonstration since abrogation. A three-mile-long line of Egyptians of all classes marched steadily and wordlessly past a million spectators. It was impressively restrained. The politicians and pashas who ostentatiously took places at the head of the parade dropped out after a few blocks and went round to the swank Mohammed Ali Club for refreshments, or were driven away in their limousines. But the people poured on--platoons of lawyers, doctors and merchants, wearing tarbooshes, mingled with battalions of factory workers and street peddlers in skull caps. Copts, Moslems and sheiks marched arm in arm under banners showing the cross and the crescent joined. When spectators began to applaud, the demonstrators shushed them into silence; the sound, reported TIME Correspondent Jim Bell, was a low hum like locusts in a field of grain. Overhead flew banners screaming "Get out, dirty English!" Posters showed British soldiers bayoneted through the throat. When the marchers came within hailing distance of the King's palace, the police swiftly and skillfully split them up, hustled them down the side streets.

The quiet of the parade was a sign of the government's control; the size of the crowd was a measure of the danger that still exists.

Farouk was already styling himself King of Egypt and the Sudan. By abrogating the treaty with Britain, Egypt claimed to have ended the 52-year-old joint Anglo-Egyptian rule over the Sudan. The Sudanese, most of whose leaders seek independence--from both Britain and Egypt --wanted no part of Egypt's action. Last week Britain's new Foreign Secretary Anthony Eden promised the 8,000,000 Sudanese that by the end of 1952 they would be allowed to decide whether they wanted to be free or join Egypt. The British didn't really believe the Sudanese would be ready for independence by then, but their hand had been forced. Britain still hopes that the Sudan will want to stay in the British Commonwealth.

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