Six Days of War

by Michael B. Oren

  These developments strengthened Eshkol’s determination to coordinate Israel’s moves as closely as possible with the United States. “What do we have to do so that they [the Americans] won’t say, ‘but you promised to wait?” he asked Dayan and Eban late Thursday night. The foreign minister no longer had an answer, admitting that he, too, was despairing of diplomatic options. Asked by reporters that day how long Israel would now wait, Eban had replied, “You can eliminate years and months from your vocabulary…Israel will open the Straits alone if we must, with others if we can.” Now he told Dayan that “there are two clocks ticking, one in Washington on the convoy and one in Israel on war, neither of them in sync.” The observation brought no argument from Dayan, who had long distinguished between the political issue of reopening the Straits and the strategic necessity of assuring Israel’s defense. The only question, he emphasized, was: “What does the U.S. intend to do about the Arab military threat?”

  That same question faced members of the general staff and the Ministerial Defense Committee the next morning in the Pit. Yariv opened with “This is Egypt’s greatest hour,” predicting that the combined Arab armies could push Israel back to the UN Partition lines, or further. His main topic, though, was the Americans. “Our view is that the United States does not intend to open the Tiran blockade forcibly or to take concrete steps in the near future in order to solve the problem between Egypt and Israel. Yet we do think that the U.S. understands our need to act, and we believe that we must act.”

  Rabin picked up the cue. “We have entered a situation of no retreat. Our objective is to give Nasser a knockout punch. That, I believe, will change the entire order of the Middle East. What’s more, if we do it alone—not that I think anybody will help us—it will have a different impact than 1956.” He explained that nobody in the general staff wanted war, but destroying Nasser was Israel’s only option for survival.

  The generals then rushed to present their war plans, beginning with air force commander Motti Hod. He claimed that the IAF knew the location of all Egypt’s jets, and would destroy most of them on the ground, flying as many as 1,000 sorties per day. But he also called attention to the enemy’s reconnaissance flights over Israel, and warned of the dangers of tarrying. “We’re ready to go into operation immediately,” Hod concluded, “there’s no need to wait, not even 24 hours.”

  Shaike Gavish followed with maps of the Egyptian deployment in Sinai, traced the buildup from two divisions to six, all squarely dug in. “If we’d attacked Sharm [al-Sheikh] right after the closure, it would have been a picnic,” he said.

  “The army is ready as never before to repel an Egyptian attack and…to wipe out the Egyptian army,” declared Arik Sharon. “A generation will pass before Egypt threatens us again.”

  The briefings ended; now it was the ministers’ turn. “What about the bombing of our cities?” Haim Moshe Shapira demanded to know, and Zalman Aran joined him: “What about the loss of our planes?” If the Egyptian forces were already in Sinai, several ministers wondered, why not wait another week or two?

  “The best defense for our cities is the destruction of the Egyptian air force,” countered Hod, and assured the ministers that “America’s [jet] losses in Vietnam are 14 percent—ours will be lower.”

  More questions were raised and then duly answered—all but one. When Health Minister Yisrael Barzilai asked, “But what if the first strike is so successful that it forces the USSR to intervene?” Hod stood speechless. Rabin tried to rescue him, telling Barzilai that the Soviets were unlikely to get involved militarily, but rather would seek to work with the U.S. on obtaining a cease-fire.

  The atmosphere in the Pit—hot, cramped, smoke-laden—was rapidly becoming insufferable, and the generals’ patience was strained. Avraham Yoffe leaped to his feet, shouting, “I’ve been sitting in the Negev with the reserves for 14 days and the feeling all along the line is of our failure to take the initiative. Nasser is getting stronger and we just sit there and do nothing. We have to grab the initiative from Nasser!”

  On his heels came Matti Peled, the quartermaster, even more fervent: “The enemy is digging in and getting stronger while our economy weakens and all for a purpose which no one has yet explained!” Then Ariel Sharon: “All this fawning to the Powers, begging for help, undermines our case. If we want to survive here, we have to stand up for our rights.”

  A veritable melee ensued, a “war of attrition,” according to Col. Lior, who was convinced that the generals had planned it all in advance. “They continued pounding on the ministers’ heads. I wondered whether the object was to bring them to their knees or to get them to burst out crying.”

  Into this fray stepped Eshkol. Worn-out, relentlessly harried at home and at every turn disappointed by the Americans, the prime minister had all but reconciled himself to the outbreak of war within forty-eight hours. Still, on the chance that Washington might yet authorize the convoy or at least give Israel its “green light,” Eshkol would argue for time. “We will still need Johnson’s help and support,” he lectured the generals. “I hope we won’t need it during the fighting, but we shall certainly need it if we are victorious, in order to protect our gains. I want to make it clear to the president, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that we have not misled him; that we’ve given the necessary time for any political action designed to prevent the war. Two days more or less won’t sway the outcome!”

  Eshkol went on, angry now, reminding Sharon that “all the fawning to the Powers” had yielded the arms with which Israel could now defend himself, and Peled, of the need for friends once the fighting had stopped. “We have to ask ourselves whether we, a country of two million, can afford to go to war every ten years, can afford to thumb its nose at the United States and the world.” He concluded, finally, on a typically somber note: “Nothing will be settled by a military victory. The Arabs will still be here.”43

  Conspicuously silent throughout the fracas was Moshe Dayan. Brooding, he resented what he viewed as the government’s interference in his exclusive purview as defense minister, informing Lior that “I oppose decisions made on majority vote on matters of security.” Yet, no sooner had the Pit meeting concluded then he conferred separately with Eshkol, Eban, and Allon; later, Rabin and Herzog joined them as well. The Cabinet should meet tomorrow, Sunday, Dayan told them, and authorize the army to act. The war would begin the next day at sunrise. Allon proposed taking the Suez Canal and using it as a bargaining chip in the negotiations over Tiran, but Dayan objected. Important foreign interests were vested in the Canal, and Israel could not afford to alienate them. He similarly rejected Allon’s suggestion that Israel conquer Gaza. The 20-mile Strip would surrender without a shot, Dayan predicted, the minute Sinai fell.

  Eshkol no longer resisted Dayan’s dictate, and even Eban seemed willing to bend. The change in the foreign minister’s heart had been gradual, wrought first by reports of Johnson’s inability to mount the Regatta scheme, and then by indications that Washington no longer looked unfavorably on Israeli preemption. Much meaning was read into an off-the-cuff remark made by Secretary of State Rusk who, when asked whether the U.S. would continue restraining Israel, replied, “I don’t think it’s our business to restrain anyone.” Then, through a confidential source, Eban received a message from Abe Fortas. The justice, furious with Rusk for “fiddling while Israel burned,” appeared to be giving a go-ahead:

  If Israel had acted alone without exhausting political factors, it would have made a catastrophic error. It would then have been almost impossible for the United States to help Israel and the ensuing relationship would have been tense. The war might be long and costly if it breaks out. But Israel should not criticize Eshkol and Eban. The Israelis should realize that their restraint and well-considered procedures would now have a decisive influence when the United States comes to consider the measure of its involvement.

  Even “greener” was the light that Arthur Goldberg seemed to be giving Israel. “You must understand that you stan
d alone and you have to know the consequences,” he imparted to Gideon Rafael, explaining that Regatta was dead and that only Israel could meet the existential threat Nasser now posed. American and world opinion would favor Israel, Goldberg concluded, especially if the Arabs were to fire first. “I understand that if you do act alone you will know how to act.”44

  Such signals had a decisive impact on Eban; Dayan, however, had little time for them. He was already deep into the strategy of the war itself, conferring with the generals. “We’ll have no longer than 72 hours in which to act,” he told them Saturday night in the Pit. “Our success, therefore, will be judged not on the number of Egyptian tanks we destroy in that time, but on the size of the territory we’ll seize.” That territory would include all of the Sinai Peninsula, short of Gaza and the Canal. Rabin was also against taking Sharm al-Sheikh—the objective was too far away, too complicated logistically—but Dayan insisted it be included. Like Gaza, the Straits of Tiran would also fall to Israeli control, he reckoned, once Egypt’s army collapsed. The myth of 1956—that the Egyptian army had not been defeated but had merely withdrawn from the field—would be smashed.

  The invasion of Sinai, to begin shortly after the air offensive, would follow three axes: a thrust into northern Sinai, in the Rafah area, and two in the peninsula’s center. In preparation for that launch, the army would engage in various acts of deception. The IAF would make several deep reconnaissance probes down the Gulf of Aqaba, and the navy would haul a number of landing craft overland from the Mediterranean to Eilat, leading Egypt to believe that the Israeli attack would come in the south of Sinai, rather than in the north and the center. Formations of armor and men would be pulled back from the border—later to return, surreptitiously—and photographs published of thousands of reservists on leave. The beaches, confirmed British Ambassador Michael Hadow, were “crowded as Blackpool in the holiday season.” Rather devilishly, Dayan told reporters that day that he was open to a negotiated solution, that peace should be given every chance. “The day of the firebrand in the Israeli Defense Forces is over,” Hadow added. “They are now preparing for the long haul.”45

  No effort would be spared to ensure the success of the operation, but that success hinged not only on Egypt’s front, but also on Syria and Jordan’s. “If the Jordanians attack Eilat, in Jerusalem or in the Tel Aviv area, all of our plans will be undermined,” Dayan warned the generals, “We cannot reach al-‘Arish when we’re battling in Jerusalem.” Israel would adopt a position of “total passivity” on both the eastern and northern fronts, even if its border settlements were shelled.

  No fighting with Syria and Jordan—this was the message that Dayan impressed on his commanders as he left the general staff for a tour of the field. “Get used to the idea, this is a war against Egypt,” he told David “Dado” Elazar, chief of the Northern Command.

  Both men were observing the Syrian front from Kibbutz Dan, eighteen miles from Kfar HaNassi, where two Israelis and a Palestinian guerrilla had been killed in a clash the previous day. IDF intelligence had warned of worse: Within an hour of any Israeli attack on Egypt, the Syrians would respond with infantry and armored thrusts into northern Galilee and the shelling of Israeli settlements and cities. To this end, Syrian forces had reportedly massed in an offensive deposition atop the Golan. Immense cargoes of Soviet ammunition had been spied arriving in Syrian ports.

  Elazar had an array of contingency plans for dealing with Syria, from a limited assault on the Golan ridge—Operation Marmalade (Merkahat)—to Operation Pincers (Melkahayim) for conquering the entire Heights. Operation Hammer (Makevet) represented a compromise between the two. Feigning an attack in the Golan center, Israeli columns would scale the northern and southern ends of the Heights, capture the Jordan headwaters, and destroy Syria’s army.

  Hammer would be launched simultaneously with Focus in order to preempt the Syrian attack and further deter the Jordanians—so Elazar advised. “If there’s a war against Egypt, there’ll be war here as well,” he reasoned. “Syria will leap in five or six hours after the fighting starts. We won’t have to provoke them.” Rabin approved the plan in principle, but refused to earmark the forces necessary to implement it, particularly helicopters, virtually all of which were reserved for the south. He also rejected Elazar’s analysis of Syria’s determination to fight under any circumstances. If Egypt were swiftly defeated, Rabin believed, Syria would soon retire.

  Elazar’s remaining hope was Dayan. “We must ensure that, if war breaks out, it doesn’t end on the Green [Armistice] Line,” he told the defense minister during his visit to Dan. “If we defend ourselves from the valley below, our situation will be terrible.” He pointed at the fortified Syrian village of Za’ura, explaining how its capture would serve as a buffer between the Golan and the settlements, as well as a springboard for penetrating the Heights.

  But Dayan’s response was categorically negative. “You people up here have to sit tight and hold out,” he ordered Elazar. While willing to approve a quick advance of troops into the DZ’s up to the international border, Dayan rejected any operation that would precipitate war with Syria.

  The scene was reenacted at Central Command, with Gen. Uzi Narkiss. Like many soldiers of his generation, Narkiss regretted Israel’s inability to seize the West Bank and Jerusalem in 1948. Rehavam Ze’evi, a friend and contemporary of Narkiss, recalled how “we all dreamed of completing the War of Independence and freeing the Land of Israel to the East. Only by seizing the highlands held by Jordan could we guarantee the survival of the western plains. That dream guided all of us, including Rabin, throughout our military planning.”

  Central Command had “drawers full” of such plans. Most called for counterattacks against Arab attempts to drive across Israel at its narrowest and cut the country in two, or to isolate West Jerusalem. The best known of the contingencies, code-named Whip (Pargol), involved a forty-eight-hour operation to knock out Jordanian artillery concentrations on the West Bank and lay siege to East Jerusalem. Rabin assigned Whip an almost paramount priority. “Even if it means the fall of northern settlements, we must defend ourselves against [attack from] the West Bank,” he said.

  Yet, when Narkiss met Dayan in the Jerusalem hills, neither Whip, nor even less ambitious plans received approval. “You must not do anything to entangle Israel with the Jordanians,” Dayan ordered. “You mustn’t bother the general staff with requests for help.”

  “And if the Jordanians attack us without provocation and take Mount Scopus?”

  “In that case, bite your lip and hold the line,” came Dayan’s reply. “Within a week we’ll get to the Canal and to Sharm al-Sheikh, then the whole IDF will come here and get you out of trouble.”46

  That Saturday had been long and arduous for Dayan, yet the day was far from over. Still ahead was another conference with Eshkol at his private apartment in Jerusalem.

  The prime minister had just been informed that the IDF was only six jets short of the optimal number, but in all other areas—tanks, guns, half-tracks—was fully equipped for war. The report brought him only limited solace, though, as dismal news arrived from Paris. De Gaulle, who had earlier threatened to boycott arms sales to whichever country began hostilities in the Middle East, had banned all weapons for Israel. “You have condemned us as if we had already fired the first shot,” Ambassador Eytan had remonstrated. “How can you levy an embargo on Israel without knowing in advance who will start the war?” But his protests were useless. Doubtful of Israel’s ability to defeat the Arabs, eager to restore France’s historic links with the Muslim world, De Gaulle had made up his mind, and brusquely rebuffed Eytan: “My dear sir, I know only one thing—that you also don’t know what your government will decide.”47

  Now, at his home late on Saturday night, Eshkol waited for the entry of Dayan and Eban, of Levavi, Herzog, and Yadin—all gathered to hear the last word from Amit and Harman, freshly returned from Washington. “Perhaps the jungermen (‘young men’ in Yiddish) will bring back
some unexpected news?” Eshkol wondered aloud to his wife, Miriam. “It’s important that the world knows that we waited long enough. I’m sure that we’ll win, but it will be a costly war. How long will they let us fight? If it goes well for us, the Russians will surely put the pressure on, and de Gaulle and others will demand a cease-fire.”

  “The tension was unbearable,” wrote Col. Lior, who was also invited to record the meeting. If Amit and Harman recommended war, then no other considerations—not the French boycott, not the Soviet warnings—would stop Israel from acting. The two came in at close to midnight and delivered a uniform message. The United States could not mount the convoy operation—it was a nonstarter—nor would it cooperate with Israel militarily. “If we start a war and win—everyone will be with us. If we don’t win, it’s going to be tough,” Amit admonished, but quickly added: “It is my impression that the Americans will bless any action that succeeds in sticking it to Nasser.” Both he and Harman appeared to be advocating immediate preemption, but they then surprised their listeners by suggesting that Israel wait another week and then send a ship through Tiran. They had in mind the Dolphin, an Israeli freighter docked in Masawa, Ethiopia, and filled with $9 million worth of oil.

  Dayan, silent until now, suddenly exploded. “The minute we send a ship through the Straits the Egyptians will know that we’re about to attack. They’ll shoot us first…and we’ll loose the Land of Israel. It’s total lunacy to wait!”

  Dumbstruck by this outburst, Amit and Harman retracted their proposal. From that moment until the meeting’s end near dawn, Dayan steered the conversation where he wanted it, toward the Cabinet session to be held later that morning, and to the offensive he was sure would be approved. “In one or two hours the air force will have achieved its major objectives, as will the land forces on the first day,” he estimated. “By the second day we’ll be on our way to the Canal. Egypt won’t have an air force for at least a half a year.”48