It was a volatile time to arrive in this neck of North Africa. Egyptian President Anwar Sadat was gunned down while watching a military parade six days before I arrived in Cairo, right there at the airport. One could see where it happened. The authorities hadn’t yet cleared away evidence of the carnage. The next day, I went off to cover Operation Bright Star.
Bright Star was the first joint exercise of the United States Rapid Deployment Force with the Egyptian army, the first deployment of American combat-ready troops to North Africa since World War II. The Carter White House was sending a message to Iran in the waning months of the hostage crisis and at the outset of their war with Iraq, and to the Soviets who had just invaded Afghanistan: We’ve come to wave our flag and unsheathe our sword, so mind your Ps and Qs. I went there to cover this bellicose extravaganza for the Gamma-Liaison Photo Agency (before I hooked up later with Sygma).
“Hey, Zimbo!”
I looked left. I looked right. I swung around and looked behind me. No one. No doubt about it, though, I heard my nickname called out loud.
“No, up here!” the voice said.
What? I looked up. It was raining . . . mushrooms. I was not on psychedelics. Paratroopers were descending, sprinkled into the clear blue sky…
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