Nasser longed for the blockade, and as early as May 17, with UNEF still guarding the Straits, decided in principle to reinstate it. But implementing that decision was another matter entirely. Not forgotten were the memories of 1956, when the IDF broke through Egyptian lines in Sinai en route to Sharm al-Sheikh. Now, with military intelligence reporting that the Israeli mobilization was nearly complete, the threat of another invasion could not be overlooked. If the expulsion of UNEF had increased the chance of war to 20 percent, Nasser told a midnight meeting of his top military and civilian officials at his home on May 21, the closure of Tiran would raise it further, to over 50 percent. The question was whether the army was ready.
The answer, without hesitation, came from ‘Amer. “Bi raqbati,” he volunteered, “on my neck, the army is prepared for the situation with both defensive and offensive plans.” Since Israel would attack the Straits anyway, Egypt lost nothing by shutting them, the field marshal explained. Failure to blockade, on the other hand, was disgraceful. “How can my forces stationed there [Sharm al-Sheikh] simply watch the Israeli flag pass before them?” he berated Prime Minister Suliman, an engineer by training, who suggested that barring traffic through the Straits might not be in Egypt’s best interests. Having sent those forces there, disregarding his staff’s advice, ’Amer now argued that their presence necessitated closure. His power, if not his logic, was such that none of the officials present could oppose it.43
Nor did Nasser object, though he, alone, could have. No record has been found of any reservations the Egyptian leader might have raised regarding the blockade, not even in the writings of his apologist, Mohamed Heikal. Indeed, Heikal was present, along with ’Amer, Badran, and Muhieddin, the following day at the Abu Suweir air force base where Nasser greeted an ebullient group of pilots. He told them of receiving “accurate information” on Israel’s pending invasion of Syria, and of his decision to oust UNEF, “a force serving neo-imperialism,” from Sinai, “as an affirmation of our rights and sovereignty over the Aqaba Gulf.” Then came the thrust:
The Aqaba Gulf constitutes our Egyptian territorial waters. Under no circumstances will we allow the Israeli flag to pass through the Aqaba Gulf. The Jews threatened war. We tell them: Ahlan Wa-sahlan (You are welcome), we are ready for war. Our armed forces and all our people are ready for war, but under no circumstances will we abandon any of our rights. This water is ours.
No sooner had Nasser uttered these words than cables went out to Arab governments informing them of Egypt’s decision and requesting their help in thwarting oil shipments to Israel. “Sea mines have been laid in certain areas inside Egyptian territorial waters,” Cairo Radio announced. The army went on high alert. On ’Amer’s order, the navy was instructed to send one destroyer and a squadron of torpedo boats to bar the Straits to Israeli flagships or freighters carrying oil to Eilat. Two warning shots would be fired at these boats. “If they fail to respond to the warnings,”‘Amer wrote, “they will be damaged. If they still fail to respond, they will be sunk.”
“We were issued the order to close the Tiran Straits,” Muhammad ‘Abd al-Hafiz, a paratrooper commander at Sharm al-Sheikh, remembered. “We were joined by seven SU 100 motorized cannons and four heavy shore cannons…A destroyer, six torpedo ships and a submarine were off shore [in addition to] the MiG-21 squadron positioned at Hurghada…We were ordered to shoot warning shots at every [Israeli] ship sailing through the straits…and if it didn’t stop, to shoot at closer range, and so on.” Hafiz, who never knew that UNEF had stationed in the area or that Israel had enjoyed rights of passage, was elated by the action. “Of course, the closing of the straits was a declaration of war…but at that point we did not know this and we carried out orders without questioning.”44
Similar elation was registered throughout the Arab world, where Nasser’s Ahlan Wa-sahlan reverberated. In Hebron and Jerusalem, in the streets of Baghdad, Beirut, and Tripoli, mass demonstrations erupted in acclaim of Egypt’s action. The armed forces of Lebanon, Kuwait, and Saudi Arabia were activated; Iraqi armored columns were reportedly moving toward the Syrian and Jordanian borders “to participate in the battle of honor.” King Hussein donned a military uniform and reviewed units of his army, among them American-made tanks that were not supposed to cross the Jordan River, parading toward the West Bank.45
U Thant did not partake of the Arabs’ exultation. He learned of the closure order during a stopover in Paris, en route to Cairo. Deeply insulted, he considered canceling his trip, but then determined to press on in the hope of persuading Nasser to either rescind his decision or pledge that Egypt would not be the first to fire.
The secretary-general’s plane landed at Cairo International Airport on Tuesday afternoon, May 23, exactly one week after Rikhye first received Egypt’s eviction order. Hundreds of people were on hand to greet him, cheering “Long live Nasser!” and “We want war!” as he descended to the tarmac. Among them was Mahmoud Riad, who was prepared to begin talks immediately. But U Thant, feeling tired, delayed his meeting with the foreign minister until 9:45 the following morning.
The morning was cool and clear as U Thant’s limousine—license plate UNEF I—crossed the Nile at University Bridge, passed the Soviet embassy, and arrived at the Semiramis Hotel, that temporarily housed the Foreign Ministry. Riad’s disposition was anything but sunny, though. He rejected as worthless American assurances that there were no Israeli concentrations in the north, and insisted there was a plot to conquer southern Syria and impose UNEF there as well. The remilitarization of Sinai was aimed at making Israel “think twice” before mounting aggression, Riad said. But Egypt’s action had served another purpose as well: “to pull the last curtain on the Israeli aggression of 1956.” There would be no restoring that curtain, either, even at the cost of war. UNEF troops would be evicted from Egyptian soil “by force, if necessary,” and Israeli ships prevented from sailing to Eilat. Riad left little latitude for diplomacy. While Egypt was willing to discuss the possibility of reviving the Armistice and its machinery, it rejected any measure—the marking of the border, for example—that granted Israel recognition or detracted from the state of belligerency.
A cigar-smoking Thant allowed Riad to finish before presenting his idea for a two-to-three week freeze in the situation: Egypt would not blockade the Straits, but neither would Israel try traversing them. This moratorium—“along the lines of the Cuban [missile] crisis”—would afford time for a specially appointed UN mediator to work out a peaceable solution. Riad reacted skeptically. The government could show no hesitation to its people, he asserted, and especially not to the army, which was determined to defend the Arab cause. The message U Thant brought from Eshkol, that Israel would act militarily to reopen the Straits, had no impact on the foreign minister.
U Thant next lunched at the Tahrir Club where his host, Dr. Mahmoud Fawzi, informed him that the meeting with Nasser would only take place late that evening, after dinner. If piqued by this delay, the secretary-general showed no inkling. He was fond of Nasser, had always found him “very simple, charming, polite…the real leader of his people,” and never forgot their first encounter in Rangoon, where the Egyptian agreed to don traditional Burmese dress and to get soaked, while attending a water festival. That fondness was apparent when the talks began at the president’s residence at ten o’clock. U Thant readily accepted Nasser’s explanation that he had decided to announce the closure before, rather than after, the secretary-general’s visit, in order to spare his guest undue embarrassment. Had U Thant asked him to refrain from blockading, he, Nasser, would have had to rebuff him.
Nasser reiterated much of what Riad had said earlier: that the Sinai buildup was necessitated by Israel’s designs on Syria, and by the requisites of Arab dignity and honor. He admitted to having dreamt of seizing the initiative and of having asked his generals whether they were ready to take on Israel. Their reply, Nasser recalled, was, “We will never be in a better position than now. Our forces are well equipped and trained. We w
ill have all the advantages of attacking first. We are sure of victory.” Shrugging, Nasser asked U Thant, “My generals tell me we will win—what would you say to them?” but U Thant just smiled back.
Nasser then embarked on a long tirade against the United States, which he accused of waging a “war of starvation” against Egypt, of trying to topple him with the Islamic Pact, and of lying about Israeli troop concentrations. As for Israel, it had neither legal claim to Eilat nor any need for a Red Sea port; oil could be imported through Haifa. He realized that removing UNEF from the border meant evicting it from Sharm al-Sheikh as well—no mention was made of a request for a mere redeployment—and that this, in turn, meant war. Yet he repeatedly pledged not to fire the first shot. “We have no intention of attacking unless we are attacked, and then we will defend ourselves…We will not attack first.” Further, he agreed to instruct his troops in Tiran to be “good boys” and observe the proposed moratorium, provided that Israel reciprocated.
The meeting ended curiously, with Nasser again offering UNEF Egypt’s highest medal for distinguished service, and by asking for permission to purchase its surplus equipment. U Thant emerged puzzled by these requests, but optimistic nevertheless. He remarked to Rikhye, who had taken notes on the discussion, that “Nasser, his Foreign Minister, and other UAR leaders had reaffirmed their great respect for the office of the secretary-general, who enjoyed their high personal regard and immense popularity throughout the Arab world.” His proposal for a “breathing space” had been accepted; now it was up to Israel to comply. But his hopefulness was not shared by Rikhye. The former UNEF commander had found Nasser strangely unfocused and weak, as if the army, and not the president, were sovereign. Asked for his impression of the meeting, Rikhye responded, “I think you’re going to have a major Middle East war and I think we will still be sorting it out 50 years from now.”46
Rabin Waits
Yitzhak Rabin emphatically agreed, at least about the prospects for war. News of the closure reached IDF intelligence at 2:30 A.M., on May 23, along with reports of Egyptian submarines passing through the Straits and the emplacement of heavy guns at Sharm al-Sheikh. On the Golan Heights, Syrian forces were at maximum strength and war footing; the movements of UN observers had been strictly curtailed. The chief of staff would recount that “the key piece of the Middle Eastern puzzle—Nasser’s provision of a casus belli—had just fallen into place. In effect, the ball was now in our court…” At stake, he knew, was more than just the issue of free passage and the well-being of Eilat. “It is now a question of our national survival,” he told his generals that night, “of to be or not to be.”47
Still, Eshkol refused to approve a preemptive strike. Awakened before dawn by Col. Lior with the words, “Sir, the Egyptians have closed the Straits,” the prime minister hurried to the Pit (Hebrew: Bor) deep beneath IDF headquarters in Tel Aviv. Waiting for him there were Rabin and the general staff and an atmosphere taut with expectation.
Intelligence chief Yariv began: “The post-Sinai Campaign period has come to an end…If Israel takes no action in response to the blockade of the Straits, she will lose her credibility and the IDF its deterrent capacity. The Arab states will interpret Israel’s weakness as an excellent opportunity to threaten her security and her very existence.” Next came Weizman: “We must strike now and swiftly…we must deal the enemy a serious blow, for if we don’t, other forces will soon join him.” Lastly, Rabin spoke: “The Syrian and Jordanian position depends on the success of Egypt’s move,” he said, telling Eshkol that the IDF could either take Gaza as a bargaining chip or else try to destroy the Egyptian army. Either way, the offensive would open with a surprise attack on Egypt’s air force. “We have to admit the truth. First we’ll strike Egypt, and then we’ll fight Syria and Jordan as well.”
Eshkol now understood that time was not on Israel’s side and that the army advised preemption. But the prospect gravely disturbed him. While IAF planes struck at Egypt, northern Israel would be exposed to Syrian fire; entire settlements might be annihilated. More discomforting, however, was the knowledge that Johnson still opposed any resort to violence. Thus, after acknowledging the generals’ recommendation, Eshkol again decided to wait. An oil tanker was due in Eilat in one week, he revealed, and could challenge the blockade if necessary. Meanwhile, another appeal would be made to Washington.48
Washington had, in fact, appealed to Eshkol. During the night, another letter from Johnson had arrived exhorting Israel to “manifest steady nerves” and recalling his and previous presidents’ commitments to its security. Though U Thant’s decision on UNEF was regrettable, Johnson wrote, the Soviets seemed cooperative, and the United States was working to peaceably resolve the crisis “in the United Nations or outside it.” Until it did, the U.S. was willing to furnish a number of items—100 half-tracks, Patton tank and Hawk missile parts, food and economic aid totaling $47.3 million, plus a $20 million loan—to tide Israel over. The package came with a catch, however: Israel could not challenge the blockade with a test boat or under any circumstances precipitate war. “Any Israeli unilateral action could be justified only after all peaceful measures had been exhausted,” Undersecretary Rostow warned Eppy Evron. “Such justification would have to be demonstrated before the people of the United States and the world.”49
The letter only spotlighted Eshkol’s bind: to convince the world that he had to act while convincing Israelis why he shouldn’t. That dilemma was painfully apparent at the next meeting of the Ministerial Defense Committee. Since 1948, Israel’s governments had always been coalitions, and Eshkol’s was no exception. Alongside ministers from the socialist, centrist Mapai party—the largest—sat members of the radical socialist Mapam (the United Workers’ party), the socialist but militant Ahdut ha-Avoda (Labor Union), and the ritually observant, politically moderate Mafdal (National Religious party). All these factions were represented on the Defense Committee, but in view of the crisis, opposition representatives were included as well—Menachem Begin from the Gahal right-wing party, along with Moshe Dayan and Shimon Peres, both of Rafi. A broad spectrum of opinions was thus present in the Cabinet, and the divisions within it ran deep.
Rabin opened the session. Somberly he informed the committee that the Straits would be officially closed as of 12:00 that day. With Israel’s power of deterrence impaired, Nasser could now dictate the time and place of any confrontation, switching his forces’ disposition from defensive to offensive in a matter of hours. Thus, if the IDF tried to seize the Straits, the Egyptians—the Syrians probably too, and perhaps Jordan—would strike into Israel proper. The situation was the reverse of that which had obtained in 1956: Then Egypt alone faced an Israel allied with Britain and France, while now an isolated Israel faced Egypt and numerous Arab states. The Soviets were liable to intervene as well. “We’re not talking about a stroll through the park,” Rabin concluded, but there appeared to be no choice. “We must destroy Egypt’s air force with a surprise attack followed by the advance of our ground forces into Sinai.”
Rapid-fire, the questions then flew at Rabin. Would Israel attack Syria and what damage could Syria cause while the IAF was bombing Egypt? How could Israel act alone, without a Great Power alliance? Education Minister Zalman Aran, from Mapai, raised the most frightening prospect: “Is it possible that the air force, without which this country is totally defenseless, will be obliterated?”
Rabin, frazzled, tried his best to answer. No, Israel would not attack Syria, though Syria could be expected to launch massive artillery bombardments, and yes, the damage would be extensive until the air force could turn its attention to the north. As for the fear that Israel’s planes, instead of smashing Egypt’s, would themselves be shot down, Rabin turned to Weizman. Though now IDF chief of operations, the forty-one-year-old former RAF pilot had commanded Israel’s air force throughout most of its previous decade and was the main architect of the Focus plan. Raffish, swashbuckling, never known for his modesty, Weizman dismissed Aran’s fears. “
The IAF will lose 20 planes out of 600,” he ventured, and then explained that no country could effectively seal off its sky; Israel’s first wave would get through undetected.
Weizman’s swagger failed to impress Haim Moshe Shapira, the interior minister. A representative of the National Religious party, sixty-five years old, Shapira was an outspoken dove who had often opposed Eshkol’s activist defense policies toward the Syrians. He reminded Rabin how the army had once believed that Syria stood alone and could easily be taught a lesson, but now Syria was no longer alone and that lesson could lead to war. “I’m prepared to fight,” Shapira declared, “but not to commit suicide.”
Siding with the army were Transportation Minister Moshe Carmel and Israel Galili, a minister without portfolio. Both called for a declaration of war against Egypt. Begin, outspoken in his militant views, also expressed support for a preemptive strike, as did Shimon Peres.
Throughout this debate, Eshkol sat with a drawn, nervous expression, aware that his personal future, and quite possibly the country’s, lay on the line—in Lior’s view, “worried, worried, worried.” Popular opinion had turned against him, with calls for his resignation as minister of defense, if not as prime minister as well, in favor of Ben-Gurion. Struggling to restore public confidence in him, Eshkol warned the Knesset that “any interference with freedom of passage in the Straits constitutes a gross violation of international law, a blow at the sovereign rights of other nations and an act of aggression against Israel.” But behind this bluster, the thought of war still terrified him.
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