Six Days of War

by Michael B. Oren

  By comparison with Paris, Eban’s reception in London was warm, almost fraternal. At 10 Downing Street, Eban sat at a table inhaling the smoke of Prime Minister Harold Wilson’s “not very savory pipe” and gazing at Foreign Secretary George Brown—“incalculable, abrasive, monumentally tactless…an Arabist”—seated across from him. Eban was prepared for words more disheartening than those he had heard from de Gaulle, but quite the opposite happened.

  Wilson was a long-time admirer of Israel, to which he would later dedicate a book, and where his son had volunteered on a kibbutz. Nasser’s “coups,” he believed, had radically altered the Middle East balance of power in the Soviets’ favor, and not to respond to them would “be like 1938.” He told Eban of his commitment to reopen the Straits through action “in or outside of the UN,” and to that end, had sent Minister of State George Thompson for secret talks in Washington. Foreign Secretary Brown would travel to Moscow to sound out the Soviet view. Britain would do everything to fulfill its promises from 1957, Wilson said, and offered to expedite the delivery of tank ammunition and a surplus frigate—the HMS Leviathan—to Israel.

  In fact, Wilson was wary of Britain “getting out in front” of any international convoy initiative and of possible clashes with Egypt. “We think it important that attention should be concentrated on free passage and not on the shore positions,” he had told the Americans. The former Oxford economist had reason to fear the impact of an Arab oil embargo on his policy of fiscal reforms. Yet, curiously, Wilson offered Eban no advice—no warning, certainly—on whether Israel should or should not shoot first. The left-wing Laborite once quoted as saying, “Every dog is allowed one bite, but a different view is taken of a dog that goes on biting all the time,” was silent on the question of war.76

  The London talks should have lifted Eban’s mood, but fatigued, aware of his responsibility for the 1957 guarantees (“Israelis were less likely to credit me with the decade of stability than to blame me for its termination”), he remained anxious about the meetings pending in Washington. “We have to be clear with the United States that Israel has decided not to make peace with the closure of the Straits,” he cabled ahead to Harman, “We cannot be satisfied with an American declaration that leaves the Straits in Nasser’s hands.”

  The task Eban set was more easily described than accomplished. Though Johnson had publicly denounced the blockade, he had yet to commit himself to combating it and, more disturbingly for Eban, to supporting Israel should it decide to. On the contrary, administration officials had shown an alarming willingness to abide by Nasser’s provocations, first by embracing U Thant’s idea for moving UNEF to Israel, then by denying that, until shots were fired, provocations had actually taken place. Under no circumstances, they said, was Israel to “go it alone.”77

  Yet only the threat of going it alone seemed effective in jarring the Americans out of apathy. Thus, Ambassador Barbour, when briefed by Israel’s Foreign Ministry on the advanced state of Egypt’s deployment in Sinai, asked, “Does this mean you people are going to jump the gun?” and received the stonewalling reply: “This is all we have been authorized to transmit.” Israeli diplomats in America, meanwhile, lobbied both Houses of Congress, Democratic party activists, even the president’s personal friends, in an effort to spur the administration to action. Harman rushed to Gettysburg, Pennsylvania, to urge Dwight Eisenhower to make public the pledges he and Dulles had made to Israel in 1957. The ailing ex-president agreed, adding that “I don’t believe Israel will be left alone.”

  None of this seemed to sway the White House. Johnson, the Israelis were told, was all but hobbled by Vietnam and congressional constraints; he resented being pressured by Israel. “Any Israeli unilateral action could be justified only after all peaceful measures had been exhausted,” Rostow reminded Evron, “Such justification would have to be demonstrated before the people of the United States and the world.” Whatever steps Johnson might take in the Middle East would be subjected to both UN and constitutional scrutiny.78

  This was the nebulous realm that Eban entered on Thursday morning, May 25, landing at New York’s Kennedy Airport. Despite some initial flashes of brightness—eighty-seven Congressmen had called on Johnson to support Israel, reported Evron and Rafael, and progress had been made in Anglo-American planning for the maritime convoy—the news quickly turned glum. At his hotel, Ambassador Harman presented Eban with what he later termed “one of the severest shocks of my life.”

  Shocking was the message signed by Eshkol and warning of an imminent attack. “The Arabs are planning a large-scale offensive,” the text began. “The question is no longer the Straits of Tiran but Israel’s very existence.” Mention was made of the six Egyptian divisions in Sinai, of missile boats entering the Gulf of Aqaba, and armored brigades transferred from Yemen. Syria and Iraq were poised for aggression as well. “The deterioration of the West’s position is encouraging the Arabs and increasing their appetite by the hour. You must press Johnson to clarify which concrete measures—repeat concrete measures—he is willing to take to avert the impending explosion.”

  Eban was livid. Unconvinced that Nasser was either determined or even able to attack, he now saw Israelis inflating the Egyptian threat—and flaunting their weakness-in order to extract a pledge that the president, Congress-bound, could never make. “An act of momentous irresponsibility…eccentric…” were his words for the cable, which, he wrote, “lacked wisdom, veracity and tactical understanding. Nothing was right about it.” Never a devotee of Rabin, resentful of amateur interference in the intricacies of U.S.-Israel relations, Eban would later attribute the initiative to the chief of staff’s precarious state of mind. He nevertheless acknowledged his new instructions, and asked that his first meeting with the Americans be moved up two hours, to 3:30 P.M.79

  The eye of the crisis now focused on those discussions, first at the State Department, then at the Pentagon, and finally at the White House. Forwarding his impressions of his conversation with Eban, Harold Wilson warned Johnson that Israel would almost certainly go to war unless its foreign minister received concrete commitments to its security. Wilson’s assessment was fully confirmed by Wally Barbour in Tel Aviv: “Whether unilateral Israeli action is imminent in a matter of hours I suppose only history will reveal, but my impression is that it was and this has now been postponed for several days, although I am aware [that the] possibility of postponement is wishful thinking on my part.”

  Both Wilson and Barbour knew that Eban’s report on his talks, scheduled to be presented to the Israel Cabinet that Sunday, would tip the scales for or against preemption. When asked by the ambassador, “What will happen if you receive sympathy rather than support for specific action?” Moshe Bitan, head of the Foreign Ministry’s U.S. desk, replied: “Well, then, that’s the end of the line for us.”80

  En Route to Regatta

  Rarely in the annals of American foreign policy had an international crisis caught an entire administration so completely off-guard. The day Egyptian troops entered Sinai, the White House was considering sending Vice President Humphrey to Cairo to patch up the many rents in U.S.-Egyptian relations. Hope for the success of the mission derived from Nasser’s continuing moderation on the Palestine issue. “Nowhere in the Arab world is there cooler calculation that now is not the time to take on Israel,” wrote Harold Saunders, a National Security expert on the Middle East, on May 15. If any problems hung on the horizon, they emanated from Syria, specifically its support for Palestinian terror. The solution, suggested Saunders, was an “in-and-out [IDF] raid on Syria,” telling the Israelis, “Do what you have to, but make sure it’s quick and limited.” The proposal was accepted by Walter Rostow, the national security adviser, who passed it on to the president: “We sympathize with Eshkol’s need to stop these [Palestinian] raids and reluctantly admit that a limited attack [on Syria] may be his only answer.” Apprised, finally, of the Egyptian buildup in Sinai, American officials at first dismissed it as symbolic; Nasser would never
let the Syrians trick him into a war.81

  Then came the demise of UNEF and U Thant’s “weak-kneed”—Goldberg’s word—response to Nasser. Suddenly, U.S. policy toward the Middle East was plucked out of insouciance and thrust into emergency mode. A Middle East Control Group was set up under the chairmanship of Eugene Rostow, composed of representatives from State, Defense, the NSA, and the CIA, along with such foreign affairs veterans as McGeorge Bundy and W. Averell Harriman. The goal, according to Walt Rostow’s revised estimate, was to “(a) prevent Israel from being destroyed, (b) stop aggression, and (c) to keep U Thant out in front and stiffen his spine,” all the while making no American commitments.

  Suddenly, President Johnson was dispatching personal letters to Nasser and Atassi, urging them to exercise restraint, and to Kosygin, asking him to use his influence over the Arabs. “Your and our ties to nations of the area could bring us into difficulties which I am confident neither of us seeks,” he cautioned the Soviet leader. Queries went out to Britain and France about the prospects of “breathing new life” into the Tripartite Declaration, and about assembling Western warships in the eastern Mediterranean. Questions were asked about the use of poison gas by Egypt.82

  The most pressing issue, however, was Israel and how its leaders might react. The country over which the United States had the greatest influence in the crisis remained a source of deep uncertainty for Johnson officials. The danger was that Israel, unable to retaliate for Syrian support of terror without provoking a major attack from Egypt, would first strike preemptively in Sinai. The result would be a further blow to America’s standing in the Arab world, if not worse: Soviet intervention and possibly global war. Asked to convey Israel’s assurances against such an attack to Nasser, the State Department refused. If the Israelis did strike, officials argued, America would appear guilty of collusion.

  The key to avoiding such catastrophes, according to Walt Rostow, lay in convincing Eshkol “not to put a match to this fuse.” Better that Israel absorb the initial blow, denying the Soviets a moral basis for stepping in, and only then mount its offensive. Though the Israelis would incur greater casualties, they were almost certain to win, U.S. intelligence estimated. Washington’s objective, then, became finding ways of delaying the Israeli response, of buying time through arms sales and economic aid. Yet even these palliatives were rendered ineffective on May 22, when Nasser closed the Straits.83

  The announcement, first received from the Agence France Presse, again caught the administration unawares. Johnson was just then penning letters to Nasser and Eshkol on the need for further restraint. In a hastily convened meeting of the National Security Council, the president’s advisers appeared to be in the dark as to the degree of Moscow’s foreknowledge of Nasser’s move or even the motivations behind it. “He [Nasser] either has more Soviet support than we know of or he’s gone slightly insane,” offered Lucius Battle. Pentagon officials expressed concern over the Sixth Fleet’s ability to reopen the Straits militarily—it lacked landing forces and anti-submarine units—while Rusk reported on strong Senate opposition to any unilateral American moves. At the same time, White House and State Department archives were frantically searched for the text of the pledges Dulles had made to Golda Meir, as well as other U.S. commitments to Israel; few were readily found. Virtually the only concrete action the government took was to order the evacuation of all nonvital personnel from its embassies in Tel Aviv, Cairo, and Damascus.84

  As in France, 1957 in the United States was not 1967. With its forces mired in Vietnam, its campuses and urban ghettos ablaze, America could not risk another foreign war. The obvious answer was to preempt Israeli preemption by lifting the blockade and reestablishing the rights of passage. But how? The French were opposed to Tripartite action while the Americans resisted the Four-Power summit which, they feared, would only serve as a soapbox for Soviet propaganda. The Security Council was deadlocked. Yet, out of this void of possible solutions emerged the concept of an international convoy.

  It was not a new concept; the Israelis had floated it during the Suez crisis as a means of reclaiming the Canal, only to have it shot down by Dulles. But then Britain’s George Thompson, in Washington on May 24, revived the notion and the Americans responded enthusiastically.

  Specifically, the plan called for a declaration of maritime nations asserting the right of free passage through the Straits. If Egypt rejected the declaration, an international convoy of freighters would sail for Eilat under the escort of Sixth Fleet destroyers bolstered by the British warships, the HMS Hermes and Victorious. This “probing force” would rebuff any Egyptian effort to block the convoy and, if necessary, call for reinforcements from a much larger “covering force” in the Mediterranean and Indian oceans. British and American bombers would neutralize airfields, bases, and other strategic targets in Egypt, and deter the Soviets from intervening. While the Israelis might participate in the convoy, any benefits they derived would be wholly “incidental,” as the issue was free passage, not Israeli rights. The “marching orders” for the plan, according to Eugene Rostow, were to be worked out over a two-week period, then personally approved by the president. Its code name was “Operation Red Sea Regatta,” or simply, Regatta.85

  The initial reactions to Regatta were encouraging. In Canada for a short visit on the 25th—the ostensible purpose was a tour of Expo 67—Johnson conferred with Prime Minister Pearson, the original architect of UNEF. “Mike is ready to join the party,” Johnson reported to Wilson, adding that, “this track will keep the Israelis steady.” Wilson’s response was equally upbeat: “I believe that there are enough countries in the world with the sense to realize that world peace is more important even than trying to go on working through an impotent UN, and with the guts to stand up and be counted…Who knows, perhaps even France might agree?”

  Support for the plan was even voiced, albeit clandestinely, by some Arabs. In a top-secret conversation with the CIA, Prince Muhammad, son of Saudi King Faisal, and ‘Umar ‘Azzam, son of a former Arab League secretary-general, described the convoy plan as the only means of saving the moderate Arab states. Though the leaders of those states would pay lip service to Nasser, they would welcome an international effort to belittle if not destroy him, Muhammad and ‘Azzam said.

  But then, less than forty-eight hours after its inception, the concept ran into difficulties. Initial contacts with the European allies showed no enthusiasm for an operation that was liable to jeopardize their Arab oil supplies, if not embroil them in a war. The Shah of Iran opposed spotlighting his own trade with Israel, and shipowners were reluctant to endanger their boats. Within Washington itself, in the State Department and the Pentagon, doubts were raised about the wisdom of “getting out in front” of Regatta, antagonizing the Arabs and assuming a logistics burden too heavy for wartime America. The signs also augured poorly for congressional approval of the plan—the absolute prerequisite for its execution.

  None of this information would be passed on to the Israelis, though. On the contrary, in their discussions with Israeli representatives, White House officials consistently boasted of the progress in Regatta’s preparations, of the numbers of countries willing to join it, and of the administration’s commitment to see it through. The Israelis took these prognoses at face value—at least initially. “As long as the U.S. committed itself to definite action,” Harman told Rostow, “the matter of when it acted is secondary.”86 But the cable that Eban received from Eshkol indicated that Regatta, irrespective of its timing and chances for success, was rapidly becoming irrelevant. Free passage, even if restored, could not guarantee Israel’s survival.

  Alone or Not Alone

  Dean Rusk was no stranger to Middle East politics. As chief of the State Department’s UN desk in 1947-48, he was personally involved in the Sturm und Drang surrounding the creation of Israel, which he strenuously opposed, preferring instead the establishment of a binational Jewish-Arab state. Thereafter, as president of the Rockefeller Foundation, he promote
d several peace plans based on mutual recognition and the functional division of Jerusalem—all rejected by the Arabs. “Anyone who works for peace in the Middle East inevitably gets clobbered by both sides,” he concluded. Yet that conclusion would not deter the man who had risen from rural poverty to a Rhodes Scholarship to distinguished service in China in World War II and who then became secretary of state under two presidents. At 58, reserved and vaguely elfin, Rusk had helped steer his country through monumental crises—Berlin, Cuba, Tonkin—some more successfully than others. In this latest flare-up in the Middle East, he was determined to counsel multilateralism, nonintervention, and, above all, prudence.

  Nor was Rusk a stranger to Abba Eban. Though the latter would not number him “among the Americans whose powerful enthusiasms were aroused by Israel’s statehood,” Rusk shared a worldly sensibility with the foreign minister, a wavelength. Their previous meeting, at New York’s Waldorf-Astoria hotel in October 1966, was a tour d’horizon of international affairs, spanning from the war in Vietnam to the situation in South Africa, from de Gaulle’s megalomania (“We’re not dealing with the Cross of Lorraine,” said Rusk, “but with the spirit of Pétain in 1940”) to the incompetence of U Thant (Rusk, facetiously: “There’s no better man available”). Their repartee, the protocol shows, was droll:

  Rusk: Do you have representation in Cambodia?

  Eban: We are sending in a man next month.

  Rusk: All I can say is that you should send in a good psychiatrist.

  Eban: We’re sending in a kibbutz member.

  Rusk: How is your balance of payments?

  Eban: We have reserves of some $600 million.

  Rusk: Perhaps you could lend us some money.87

  Humor, however, was not in evidence on Thursday, May 25, as Rusk and Eban again locked minds, this time at Foggy Bottom. The foreign minister defined his mission as “fateful,” and Israel’s mood, “apocalyptic.” Since the beginning of the crisis, he said, “the reality has been consistently worse than the projections,” and now “Israel could not take much more if it were a question of surrender or action.” Either he returned with ironclad guarantees or Israel “would feel alone.” Then, in a demeanor Rusk described as “relaxed,” belying a sense of urgency, Eban quoted from the message from Jerusalem: “An all-out Egyptian-Syrian attack is imminent and could occur at any moment,” he said, but then added that the request should not be taken too literally. Needed was an express American statement of “warning and deterrence” to Egypt.