Reports from both the air force and the navy finally convinced Rabin that most of the Egyptians had fled. Instead of landing at Al-Tur, the paratroopers were ferried directly to Sharm al-Sheikh where, in a pitched battle, they killed twenty Egyptians and took another eighty prisoner. At 12:15 P.M., Dayan declared that the Straits of Tiran constituted an international waterway open to all ships without restriction. The Israeli freighter Dolphin, still anchored in Masawa, immediately set sail for Eilat, while two ships departed Eilat for Africa.
The Red Sea was again open to Israeli shipping, but not so the Suez Canal. Dayan did not care. When he learned that an IDF scout patrol had probed toward the waterway, he immediately ordered it withdrawn. With the trauma of 1956 still vivid in his mind, the defense minister continued to oppose any action that might result in the closure of the Canal, again angering its maritime users.11 Accordingly, he instructed Israeli troops not to venture beyond the Mitla and Giddi passes, which dominated the main access routes into central Sinai, and offered an ideal defense line against any counterattack. But the momentum of the war in the south was rolling far faster than even Dayan could anticipate.
Pursuing the plan worked out with Gen. Gavish at Jabal Libni the night before, all three Ugdahs were on the move. Forces under Gen. Tal continued to advance in two directions—south to Bir Lahfan with Gonen’s 7th Armored Brigade and along the coast with Granit’s mechanized unit. Gonen broke out of the Jabal Libni redoubt to hit the densely fortified rear of the Egyptian 3rd Division at Bir Hamma, and then struck forty miles west to Bir Gafgafa. His objective was to cut off the 4th Division’s main escape route, via the Firdan Bridge, over the Suez Canal. Also plowing through the 3rd Division’s ranks was Yoffe’s Ugdah, swinging south through Bir Hasana and Bir al-Thamada. Yoffe’s goal, however, was not Firdan but the entrance to the Passes and the retreating Second Division. Farthest south, Ariel Sharon crossed the desert to Nakhl in the hope of trapping Shazli Force before it, too, could reach the passes.
The Israelis hurried, but were impeded by the retreating Egyptians. Fleeing vehicles and burning wrecks jammed the roads, making progress slow and at times impossible. Apart from officers and NCO’s, the Israelis were no longer taking prisoners, but encouraging Egyptian enlisted men to run toward the Canal or, shoeless, into the desert. On the roads to Bir Gafgafa and Bir al-Thamada, Israeli tanks had to wind their way through Egyptian columns in order to cut them off and destroy them. One witness to the debacle, Mahmud al-Suwarqa, a driver with the 6th Division, remembered:
We were waiting to carry out our orders and advance on Eilat when suddenly, on June 7th, both the company and battalion commanders disappeared. Later I found out that they fled over the Canal. I abandoned my jeep and joined a column retreating to Nakhl, where we were exposed to aerial attack. Then, at the Mitla Pass, we ran into Israelis who appeared to be coming from Suez. They fired shells and machine-guns at us, and after that I felt nothing. I awoke in an Israeli vehicle soaked in my own blood.
Still, scattered Egyptian units continued to show initiative and resilience. Egyptian T-55 tanks, entrenched around the sprawling military facilities at Bir Gafgafa, held their ground in the face of Tal’s advancing tanks. As many as twelve T-55’s and fifty armored personnel carriers were lost, but the Egyptians stalled the Israelis long enough for most of the 4th Division to escape across the Canal. Sharon’s Ugdah, while bogged down in a muddy riverbed, was hammered by missile fire that forced it to change direction—straight into a “friendly fire” duel with tanks from Yoffe’s Ugdah. The delay enabled Shazli’s Force to slip out of the trap Sharon was planning; the defenders of the al-Qusayma redoubt similarly managed to flee. Meanwhile, the Egyptian air force, though vastly reduced, continued to stage sorties, exploiting the proximity of their bases to the front. “Three cheers for our air force,” one Israeli officer, a doctor identified in the record as Asher, remembered thinking. He had mistaken MiG’s for Mirages:
The planes get nearer, they seem to be diving toward us. For some reason We’re over-confident. We feel sure that today, the third day of the war, there just can’t be a single Egyptian plane left intact. Anyway, this plane opens fire and an officer yells, “MiG’s! Spread out quickly!” We run like mad among the sand dunes. The plane circles over us and fires. It was just like it is in the films—you hear pap, pap, pap. We look up and see more of their planes, three more MiG’s getting into formation ready to strike. We…throw ourselves down on the sand about sixty meters off the road. The plane that just shot at us joins the other three who are waiting for him and then they all begin to strafe us.
Ilyushin-28 bombers struck the Granit Force west of Romani; Rafael Eytan, the paratrooper commander, was seriously injured. Such sorties had little impact, however, and Egypt lost another fourteen planes in what amounted to suicide attacks against overwhelming forces.12
Rearguard actions could no longer stem the tide of Egypt’s retreat, much less reverse it. “The fleeing Egyptian forces were in a state of utter confusion,” recalled security officer ‘Azzam Shirahi. As the Israelis approached, Shirahi was instructed to dynamite all the remaining structures in Bir Gafgafa. “I simply broke down destroying my own base. The only thing I couldn’t blow up was the mosque.”“Everyone lost their heads,” recalled Dr. ‘Abd al-Fattah al-Tarki, a humanities student and a reserve officer with the 2nd Armored Brigade. “We were told to withdraw to Bir al-Thamada, but we arrived to find the positions there already in flames. The army on the roads was in a state of complete collapse. It was a massacre, a disaster. Israel never would have achieved a quarter of its victory if not for the confusion and chaos.”13
The second line of Egypt’s defense—the much-touted ‘Curtain’—had collapsed. Though several generals, such as Salah Muhsin, the 14th Armored Brigade commander, tried to organize the withdrawal, most senior officers fled well in advance of their men. The brigade’s operations officer, Al-Shirbini Sa‘id Hamada, remembered, “though they had surrounded us, the Israelis had yet to break through our lines. But then came the order to retreat—why we didn’t know—and the situation turned to bedlam.”
Among the last commanders to leave the front was Murtagi himself. Moving his headquarters westward to avoid enemy air strikes, the head of Egypt’s ground forces had nevertheless remained at the front. At 2:30 P.M., though, Murtagi was located by Maj. Gen. Sa‘ad ‘Abd al-Krim, chief of military police, who advised him to evacuate at once or risk becoming a prisoner of war. “Most ridiculously, the Eastern Front was now receiving Supreme Headquarters orders from lower staff officers,” one Arab historian later commented.14 Ridiculous or not, Murtagi carried out his instructions. The once highly structured Egyptian army was now left entirely structureless.
But then, later that afternoon, a development occurred that purported to change the situation radically, saving Egypt from debacle and threatening Israel with defeat. The Arab’ principal ally, so vociferous before the war but conspicuously silent ever since, suddenly rallied to their cause.
“Where’s the war?” Soviet ambassador Chubakhin had inquired at Israel’s Foreign Ministry on the morning of June 5. Caught utterly unawares by the outbreak of the battles, the USSR had struggled mightily over the next twenty-four hours to monitor them. Only when their course was ascertained and shown to be irrevocably in Israel’s favor did Federenko receive a green light to seek a cease-fire. But by then a major dislocation had emerged in Soviet-Arab relations. While Moscow wanted a speedy end to the fighting, the Egyptians and the Syrians, counting on substantive Soviet help, insisted that it proceed.
Massive aid for the Arabs had indeed been intimated by official Soviet organs. Pravda, for example, declared that “the Soviet Government remains loyal to its pledge to assist the victims of aggression…and reserves the right to take all measures required by the situation.” Federenko employed the same wording exactly in qualifying his Security Council vote on June 6. But the Arabs were hardly pleased that “all measures” amounted to Soviet acceptance of a
cease-fire they did not want and which permitted Israel to retain conquered Arab land. “This same action cost the USSR something in the Arab world,” concluded a CIA intelligence report, “the partial Soviet abandonment of the Arabs at the UN will have to many the appearance of at least a partial sell-out.”
Avoiding that appearance, or at least mitigating it, grew increasingly difficult for the Soviets as the full scope of the Arabs’ defeat became apparent. Nasser was expecting an emergency airlift of arms and ammunition, if not direct Soviet military action against Israel. But the Kremlin was loath to do either. “The war has shown that the Arabs are incapable of unity even when their vital interests are at stake,” one Soviet official complained to an American diplomat in Moscow. Embarrassed by the poor showing of their weaponry, outgunned by the 6th Fleet, the Russians wanted to end the war before it tarnished their reputation irreparably, and before Syria fell victim to it, too.
Thus, while Soviet propaganda accused the 6th Fleet of “aiming” its weapons at the Arab states, it fell short of claiming those weapons had fired. On the contrary: Kosygin summoned Murad Ghaleb, Egypt’s ambassador, and bluntly told him that no evidence had been found to substantiate the charge of Anglo-American collaboration. President Johnson had personally warranted against such interference, and Soviet cruisers shadowing American carriers in the Eastern Mediterranean had reported no unusual activity. The Soviets agreed to ship new planes, but only to Algeria—Iraq was too far away, they explained, and Libya too close to Wheelus—where they could be reassembled for transfer to Egypt. Ghaleb protested that the process would take weeks, but failed to arouse any sympathy.
The Big Lie had boomeranged. Instead of prodding the Soviets to come to the Arabs’ assistance, it impelled them to pursue a cease-fire. The Arabs, in turn, were incensed. By the third day of the war, Nasser was not only talking in terms of Western collaboration with Israel, but of an implicit Soviet-American understanding not to come to blows in the Middle East. For the Soviets, the only way out of this vicious circle was to ignore the Arab dimension for now, and focus their attention on Israel.15
The Soviet premier undoubtedly remembered how his predecessor, Bulganin, had threatened to rain missiles on Tel Aviv. That admonition, as much as the Americans’ willingness to impose economic sanctions on Israel, had ended the 1956 war and forced the Israelis from Sinai. But faced with an America disposed toward, rather than at odds with, the Jewish state, Kosygin refrained from specific prescriptions for violence. After the first day of fighting, he cautioned Eshkol, “Should the Government of Israel not follow the voice of reason and should it not stop the blood bath, it will bear the responsibility for the outbreak of war and for all its possible results.” But the very obtuseness of the message undermined its effectiveness; the Israelis merely ignored it. Far stronger and less equivocal language was required to make the caveat credible.
Thus, on the afternoon of June 7, tired and pale-looking Chuvakhin called on Arye Levavi at the Foreign Ministry. The ambassador brought a message for Eshkol. It read: “The Soviet Union has warned the Israeli government but Israeli leaders refuse to listen to reason. If Israel does not comply immediately with the Security Council Resolution, the USSR will review its relations with Israel [and] will choose and implement other necessary steps which stem from the aggressive policy of Israel.” Similar warnings were delivered to Western leaders, with the understanding that they would add their weight in pressuring Israel.16
Moscow’s resurgent combativeness had an immediate impact on the war, albeit not on Israel’s side of it. “Beware of the armed forces,”‘Amer exclaimed when Gen. Fawzi found him that afternoon at Supreme Headquarters. The field marshal appeared to be in a greatly uplifted mood, jabbering incoherently, enraptured by what he perceived as the imminence of Soviet intervention. “Listen to me, Fawzi, beware of the armed forces,” he repeated, exuberantly. But then his manner shifted, grew suddenly sedate. He instructed his chief of staff to order the 4th Division to turn around, to recross the Canal and stop the enemy at the passes. “It’s a political decision. The president has given the order and it must be carried out.”
Unsure whether his commander had been overwhelmed by the Soviet pledge or was simply unbalanced, Fawzi nevertheless flew at once to Isma‘iliya, on the western shore of the Canal. He found Murtagi, Muhsin, and other high-ranking officers, and showed them the change of orders. “It’s a suicide mission!” Murtagi protested. “I can’t send them back without air cover, and all the roads are jammed with soldiers and wrecked vehicles.” The other officers registered similar objections, but at 4:00 A.M. the order went out to the 4th: “Remain in the Passes until you are otherwise instructed to withdraw.” Though the Curtain may have permanently fallen, the third and last defense line might still be held.17
Brave New Worlds
Just as the Egyptian effort to spur the Soviets to intervene effectively pushed them to promote a cease-fire, so, too, did the Soviet attempt to deter the Israelis drive them to accelerate their attack.
On the heels of his government’s démarche, Federenko ran to the Security Council and demanded immediate implementation of the cease-fire resolution of the previous day. Abba Eban again accepted the motion, and El Kony rejected it. Observing these developments from Jerusalem, Dayan told the Ministerial Defense Committee: “I don’t dismiss the Soviet warning but neither am I intimidated by it. Israel is not far from fulfilling the objectives it set out for itself and we can accept the cease-fire while achieving them fully.” Still, in light of the mounting pressures to end the fighting, the defense minister instructed the IDF to make every effort to reach the passes by nightfall. Col. Lior glibly recorded, “We might even go on to take Moscow.”
In addition to moving up Israel’s military timetable, Kosygin’s warning had another effect that neither the Russians nor the Arabs sought, namely, spotlighting the question of peace. “This is an historic opportunity. We can get comprehensive peace or separate treaties,” explained Yigal Allon, addressing yet another gathering of ministers and political advisers. “First we’ll talk peace with Jordan, Lebanon, and Morocco. And if Hussein can’t sign a treaty, he can escape with his family to England.” Meir Amit asked, “We have to decide what we want to do with the West Bank. Do we want to annex it or do we have other plans?” Eshkol suggested separating the East Bank from the West, installing in the latter a system of local autonomy. “If not, we will face two million Arabs, armed and hostile to us. If one Egyptian general remains there, he could well insist that they fight to the last.” The prime minister had no solution for Gaza, though—“a bone stuck in our throats”—nor was he certain how to proceed with Egypt. “I believe that we have reached the point where we can bring down the Egyptian regime entirely and make peace with the new one,” proposed Joseph Tekoah, head of the Foreign Ministry’s UN desk. “We have to convince the Americans to think in terms of peace.”18
Yet the Americans were already thinking of peace, more systematically and in greater detail than the Israelis. With the Security Council paralyzed and the Soviets for the moment contained, Johnson and his advisers were free to spend most of June 7 investigating a future Middle East settlement. As told to the National Security Council, the president’s goal was to “develop as few heroes and as few heels as possible,” maintaining an evenhanded approach in mediation. A solution would be found for free passage through the Straits, for arms control, and for the refugee problem. Yet Johnson was also aware of the complexities and pitfalls ahead—“By the time we get through with all the festering problems we are going to wish the war had not happened”—and solicited his advisers’ ideas on possible solutions.
The issue, Walt Rostow responded, “was whether the settlement of this war shall be on the basis of armistice agreements, which leave the Arabs in the posture of hostilities towards Israel, keeping alive the Israeli issue in Arab political life as a unifying force, and affording the Soviet Union a handle on the Arab world; or whether a settlement emerges in which Is
rael is accepted as a Middle Eastern state.” Rostow proposed that the administration move as swiftly as possible in formulating a comprehensive peace plan that would be mediated by the United States under a loose UN rubric.
Similar logic was evinced by McGeorge Bundy in the Middle East Control Group. The former National Security chief and Ford Foundation director waxed Polonius-like in lending advice to the president: “Make clear that we have now seen a historical event which necessarily changes the landscape. Project a positive picture of our hope for a strong and secure Israel in a prosperous and stable Middle East. Make clear the U.S. view that this time there must be a peace and not simply a set of fragmentary armistice agreements. Put us on record in favor of a real attack on the refugee problem…This is good LBJ doctrine and good Israeli doctrine.”
The search for a peace program also led the White House beyond its own staff, to two Harvard professors with expertise in international and Middle East affairs, Nadav Safran and Stanley Hoffman. Both described the war as the first real opportunity for peace since the Armistice Agreements, especially now that the USSR had been humiliated and Egyptian power curtailed. Direct talks should be initiated on a country-by-country basis, the professors submitted, emphasizing: “We must avoid like all bell putting all the Arab countries together on one side of the table and Israel on the other side.”19
Underlying these prescriptions was the assumption that the American and Israeli positions dovetailed on the question of peace. With the exception of certain “cosmetic” border changes, the Israelis were expected to forfeit all their conquests in return for face-to-face negotiations culminating in treaties. The impression was reinforced by the initial statements of Eshkol and Eban disavowing any territorial ambitions in the war, as well as by roseate reports from Tel Aviv:
Six Days of War Page 41
