I mean, Sirling, and today I'm at a McCain Potato Field.

Being chased by a massive wasp!

It's just a lady bird, Ian.

Well, it had a real wasp in her J. Why are they here?

Well, we plot wildflowers to help encourage wildlife, like birds and insects.

So, we eat McCain chips. I'm helping do some good.

Yeah, exactly. You're supporting the move to regenerative farming.

Okay, this time it's definitely a wasp. My life's in danger.

Ian, that's a butterfly.

McCain, let's all check in.

It is seven in the evening on July the 26th, 1956.

In the sultry heat of the Sinai Desert in Egypt, a young colonel sits in an open Jeep listening to the radio.

Makmud Yunus is waiting for a signal to start the secret operation that will change his country's fortunes.

In front of Yunus lies the harbor of Port Ishmaelia on the west bank of the Suez Canal.

In the distance, you can see the lights of a convoy of four giant chips heading south towards the Red Sea.

To his left are the grand French colonial-style offices of the Canal's European Managers,

surrounded by wrought iron fences and a lush palm garden.

Lamps shine through the full height windows.

This waterway is around the clock operation, with over 15,000 ships using the Canal every year.

The broadcast he's listening to comes from 200 miles away in Alexandria.

In Mancheia Square, the country's charismatic president is addressing 100,000 of his people.

Through the airwaves, the crowd roar, as the president describes the global importance of the very waterway Yunus can see through his windscreen.

...