“It was a horrible sight,” recalled Muhammad Ahmad Khamis, the 6th Division’s communications officer, who had returned to Sinai amid rumors of Algerian air cover. “The broken pieces of the army strewn over the sand…burnt out tanks…destroyed vehicles…charred bodies that looked like statues…Suddenly, I saw senior officers in an army jeep and they asked me to turn back once again…They told me that there were no more [Egyptian] forces inside [Sinai], that it was all over.” Reconnaissance officer Yahya Sa‘ad Basha had also escaped the passes only to find himself trapped. “I reached the banks of the Canal and saw that the bridges had been blown. I sprawled on the ground and slept a deep sleep from exhaustion and sadness…and from the bitterness I felt at the defeat which we didn’t understand.”
In the Giddi Pass, Gen. al-Ghul found himself virtually alone with his 4th Division staff, with no artillery and only one tank left. “Our communications had been completely jammed by the American ship, Liberty,” he later claimed. Fearing capture, al-Ghul gave his second and final order to retreat.
Witnessing that flight was British war correspondent David Pryce-Jones. Having reported on the fall of Abu ‘Ageila, he had fallen back with Egyptian forces to Qantara, where ferryboats hauled Egyptian soldiers, fifty at a time, from Sinai:
Supervising, a doctor was obliging them to sign a register, and one by one they pressed their thumb on to a purple ink-pad and then on to the floppy pages of a book. These were conscripts, and illiterate. On the other bank, under the sun, waited mothers in immobile and resigned lines, assembled from all over the country to learn the fate of their sons. Behind the serried mothers ran the barbed-wire fencing of an officers’ enclosure in the barracks and four or five officers were reclining in striped deck chairs, scrutinizing the masses through field glasses.
Foreign dispatches, rumors from the front, had finally bypassed Egypt’s military censors. Cairo, so recently the scene of jubilation over Israel’s reported defeat, was now steeped in uneasy silence. Nolte warned of a “clear and present danger of increased rioting and demonstrations” in the city, leading to “a serious breakdown in public order.”24
By the late afternoon, Nasser had met with senior officers, who apprised him of the irreversible situation in Sinai. The last of these was ‘Amer. The field marshal was conferring with al-Baghdadi and Kamal Hassan, when their president walked in. The former Free Officers rose, crying, and exited the room, leaving the two leaders alone. A fierce argument ensued, the details of which were unclear to Mahmud al-Jiyyar, Nasser’s old-time associate, listening outside. A short while later, though, Nasser came out, hunched and downcast. “Imagine, Jiyyar, everything’s over and we’re agreeing to a cease-fire.”‘Amer was quick to follow. “Enough, Jiyyar,” he uttered, “we’re capitulating.”
Nasser recalled Riad, and in a choking voice told him that Egypt could no longer continue the fight; El Kony had to be informed. Riad dreaded making the call. In his memoirs, he confessed that, “During the past few days I had been feeding him [El Kony] the exuberant military reports I had received, which he accepted, discrediting the accounts of the collapse of the army conveyed to him by his fellow ambassadors as malicious and inaccurate. For several moments we were silent. In one dismal moment the great illusion we were living crumbled.” The foreign minister got through to the New York embassy at 9:00 P.M.
El Kony was shaken to the core. “It cannot be!” he cried. The ambassador had prepared a different speech entirely, again rejecting the cease-fire. Suspecting an Israeli trick, he immediately phoned Nasser’s office and demanded to speak personally with the president. “You did well by calling, Muhammad,” Nasser assured him, “but yes, you are to accept the cease-fire.”
Broken, openly weeping, El Kony descended to the Security Council chamber at 9:35 P.M.“I have the honor to convey, upon instructions of my government, the decision to accept the call for a cease-fire provided that the other side ceases firing as well.” Witnessing this, several nonpermanent delegates to the Council persisted in believing that El Kony’s speech was merely a tactic, that Nasser would never have given in without some guarantee of Israeli withdrawal. Such speculation was soon erased, however, by a communiqué issued by Supreme Headquarters in Cairo. This confirmed Egypt’s adherence to the cease-fire following battles “unprecedented in their ferocity and intensity against the combined air forces of Israel, the United States and Great Britain.” The fighting would continue on other fronts, though, the announcement warned: “100 million Arabs are consumed with avenging hatred for…the Chicago and Texas gangs.”25
El Kony’s words in the Security Council reverberated loudly in Jerusalem, in the debate over where to end the war. Along with news of an impending ceasefire came rumors that the United States would press for a mutual six-mile pull-back of Israeli and Egyptian troops. Eager to establish the passes as Israel’s new line of defense, Dayan reversed his earlier opposition to advancing beyond them. Yoffe now divided his Ugdah into three columns. Two were to proceed south of the Great Bitter Lake. The third column would strike for Ras al-Sudr on the Gulf of Suez coast, there to link up with the paratroopers heading north from Sharm al-Sheikh. Tal was to continue his two-pronged thrust—from Bir Gafgafa and Qantara—toward the Firdan Bridge. The cease-fire, when it came into effect, would find the IDF firmly astride the Canal.
The war appeared to be coming to an end, a four-day war in which Israel conquered all of Sinai and the West Bank. With Syria’s announcement accepting the cease-fire expected momentarily, the question of whether Israel would or would not attack the Golan Heights became moot. The Soviets, moreover, appeared more than ever determined to protect their only Middle East allies—the Syrians—who as of yet remained unscathed.
Thus, early in the afternoon of June 8, a drawn-looking Ambassador Chuvakhin had presented the Foreign Ministry with a message. This denounced Israel’s failure to fulfill the cease-fire resolution and its blatant violation of international norms of behavior. “If the Government of Israel does not abide by the decisions of the Security Council,” the Kremlin warned, “the Soviet Union will review its diplomatic relations with Israel [and]…will consider additional steps necessitated by Israel’s aggressive policies.” Emerging from the meeting, the Soviet ambassador was quoted warning, “If Israelis become drunk with success and pursue their aggression further, the future of this little country will be a very sad one indeed.”
The thrust of the Soviets’ meaning was unmistakable, yet there remained influential voices in the Israeli leadership, Eshkol’s among them, that continued to press for a last-minute offensive against Syria. At 7:10 that night, Eshkol reconvened the Ministerial Defense Committee in his Tel Aviv office. His plan was to mobilize support for seizing at least part of the Golan—“like a bulldog breaking its chain,” he told the settlers in Yiddish—and surmounting Dayan’s opposition.
Rabin opened the session with a report on the continued shelling of northern Galilee. The IDF now had sufficient forces to remove the Syrian guns, he said, if time permitted before the cease-fire. Next, in an unprecedented move, representatives of the settlers’ lobby were invited to address the ministers. “If the State of Israel is incapable of defending us, we’re entitled to know it!” exclaimed Ya‘akov Eshkoli of Kibbutz Kfar Giladi. “We should be told outright that we are not part of this state, not entitled to the protection of the IDF. We should be told to leave our homes and flee from this nightmare!”
Yigal Allon was quick in seconding Eshkoli. “Assuming that as a result of our taking the Syrian ridge the USSR severs relations with us—I dont’t believe that will happen—I prefer the Syrian ridge without the Soviets to the Syrians remaining on that ridge and our retaining our ties with the Soviets.”
His logic held sway with at least one of the ministers formerly opposed to the operation. “For 4,000 years we have spoken about the sacrifice of Isaac,” affirmed Zalman Aran. “In those settlements, men, women, and children are threatened with sacrifice. The situation is insufferable.”
O
ther ministers, though, remained impervious to these arguments, and opposed to provoking Syria. “I’m no coward,” declared Zorach Warhaftig, “but a break with the USSR means breaking with ten other countries, and perhaps Asian and African nations as well. It could lead to our expulsion from the UN…We are drunk and not on wine…Without a clear breach of the cease-fire by Syria, we must not be dragged into a new war with them.” Haim Moshe Shapira maintained the NRP front, agreeing, “We should wait another day…We shouldn’t drag them [the Syrians] into battle.”
Then, finally, came Dayan’s turn to speak. He reminded the ministers of the great victory Israel had already accomplished, and of the fierce diplomatic battle it yet had to fight. “I am willing to be a minimalist—what we attained we attained and enough. Why, in the throes of this struggle, would we want to take on yet another state with different international borders? That is a little too much…The Syrians will never reconcile themselves to that, not today and not in years to come.”
Continuing, Dayan stressed the danger not only of Soviet intervention, but of the total alienation from France, the supplier of Israel’s jets. “The air force is not in good shape,” he claimed. “We have not purchased new jets since 1962, and most of our planes were hit on the first day [June 5].” He spoke of the lack of sufficient forces in the Northern Command, of possible American opposition to the move. He denied that Syria posed a threat to Israel, but then turned around and exclaimed, “I fear a joint Syrian-Iraqi air attack. I fear that all of the Arab states, except perhaps Jordan, will continue fighting.”
The defense minister again denounced government interference in what he regarded as his exclusive purview (“In military matters, I’m against making decisions on the basis of majority decisions”) and then landed a bombshell. “I prefer to move the settlements ten or twenty miles from the Syrian artillery rather than get caught up in a third front leading to a clash with the Soviets. Thousands of Arabs were relocated as a result of this war; we can relocate several dozen Israelis.”
The suggestion that settlements be uprooted rather than Syrian guns removed, sparked angry reactions from many ministers. “We must never consider moving farms,” Allon shouted; “it’s exactly like conceding parts of Israel.” Eshkol affirmed, “There could be no greater victory for the Syrians.”
And yet, when it came time to make a decision, Eshkol proved less than decisive. He merely proposed that, Dayan, Rabin, and he would approve a Golan operation when and if they saw fit. “It’d be a pity if the Syrians got away free,” he added, suggesting that the Golan could be used as a bargaining chip in future border negotiations. “Of course we don’t want a centimeter of Syrian territory.”26
Close to midnight, Dayan called Gen. Elazar with the news of the Cabinet’s latest decision. Egypt had not implemented the cease-fire, he explained, and Israel, which had already suffered enough casualties, could not afford another front. The Soviets’ disposition, moreover, remained uncertain. Dado tried assuring Dayan that Israeli losses scaling the Heights would not be prohibitive—“it won’t be that bad”—and that the USSR was more bark than bite. “If we don’t do something on this border now,” cried the Northern Command chief, “it will be a curse for generations to come.” Dayan was sympathetic but stern: “I know you and understand you and what you want, but I also know that you’re disciplined and won’t do anything that runs contrary to what we have decided.”
Dayan passed the phone to Rabin, who listened as the Northern Command chief vented his frustration. “What has happened to this country? How will we ever be able to face ourselves, the people, the settlements? After all the trouble they [the Syrians] caused, after the shellings and harassment, are those arrogant bastards going to be left on top of the hills riding on our backs?” Elazar expressed regret over having put off the operation because of the weather. “If I’d known that yesterday’s postponement would become cancellation today, I would have attacked even without air cover. It would have cost us dearly, but the Heights we would have conquered.”
Elazar, who had previously resisted the settlers’ request to evacuate noncombatants from the border area, now asked Rabin for permission to do just that, and to allow his troops to stand down. But Rabin would agree only to the withdrawal of children, and insisted that the Northern Command remain in full battle formation. He told Elazar not to give up hope, that “something may still happen,” and for a moment seemed to contradict Dayan. But the defense minister surprisingly concurred. “Though it was decided not to attack for the time being,” he intimated to Dado, “the possibility exists that the decision will yet be changed.”27
THE WAR: DAY FIVE, JUNE 9
Showdown atop the Golan.
Nasser attempts to resign.
The UN resurgent and the Soviets riled.
Israel’s constitutional crisis.
It was just after midnight when, direct from the Cabinet meeting, Dayan arrived at the Pit. Over the next three hours, he learned that the Egyptians had indeed accepted the cease-fire and that Syrian approval was soon to follow. Suddenly, in a remark that baffled Rabin, Dayan said that there was no sense in merely capturing Tel ‘Azzaziat—a limited attack might be seen by the Arabs as a lack of Israeli will—when the Golan was effectively empty. He told his chief of staff, “If the Syrians sit quietly, I won’t approve any action against them, but if in spite of all our restraint they continue shelling, I will recommend to the Cabinet that we take the entire Heights.”
Rabin, always in favor of punishing Syria, did not raise any objections. But neither did he issue new orders to Northern Command. He left the Pit for the first visit home in four days (“I was asleep before my head touched the pillow”), unsure of whether the defense minister, having already reversed himself on conquering Jerusalem and reaching the Suez Canal, might yet change his mind again.1
Dayan remained in the Pit, and continued to monitor the situation. Bar-Lev arrived and tried to persuade him that the Cabinet really favored the attack—Eshkol, too—but could not find the right pretext for launching it. There were additional intelligence estimates, one alleging that the Soviets had lowered their tone, were no longer threatening intervention. At 3:10, Radio Damascus announced that Syria would respect the cease-fire if Israel did—“the battle cannot be swift, but will require long and patient preparations”—and at 4:45 A.M., Gen. Gavish phoned from Sinai to say that the Israeli forces were now digging in on the Canal. The war indeed appeared to be over.
That, at least, was the conclusion of IDF intelligence. Major Eli Halahmi, in charge of researching the Syrian army, had already reconciled himself to what he termed “the lost opportunity” to punish Damascus, and had requested leave to visit the Western Wall. But then, just before midnight, he received a fresh batch of aerial photos from the north. What they showed shocked him. The army camps around Quneitra, previously thick with armored, artillery, and commando units, appeared to have been deserted. “Our estimate is that the Syrian disposition on the Golan Heights is possibly collapsing,” Halahmi reported, adding unconventionally, “It is not clear whether this situation will again present itself.”
“What can we do?” shrugged Aharale Yariv when he read the report. “There’s going to be a cease-fire.”
Halahmi pressed him: “Sir, we must not let them [the Syrians] get off without a scratch. If they do, they’ll continue to spit at us and to boast that they beat us and they, alone, scared us into inaction.”
Still skeptical, Yariv nevertheless submitted the report which, at dawn, reached the hands of Moshe Dayan. So, too, did a cable recently intercepted from Cairo. “I am certain that Israel is about to concentrate all of its forces against Syria in order to eliminate the Syrian army,” Nasser warned President Atassi. “For your own benefit allow me to advise you to accept the cease-fire immediately and inform U Thant of that fact. This is the only way of saving the valiant Syrian army. We have lost this battle. God help us in the future.”
If Dayan was leaning toward yet another abou
t-face of policy, the cable, together with Halahmi’s report, impelled him. He scribbled a note to Eshkol:
In my opinion, this cable compels us to take the maximum lines.
Last night I had no idea that the leadership of Egypt and Syria would crumble like this and give up the battle. In any event, we must exploit this opportunity to the utmost. A great day.2
David Elazar meanwhile was having what he called “the worst night in my life.” In a last-ditch effort to persuade Dayan to approve the Golan offensive, the Northern Command chief had sent one of his reserve officers, Uzi Finerman, a Rafi party member and personal friend of the defense minister’s, to Tel Aviv. At 2:00, having heard no response from Finerman, Elazar gave up and went to bed. Four hours later, the phone rang.
“Can you attack?” Dayan asked.
However dazed, Elazar replied unhesitatingly. “I can—and right now.”
“Then attack.”
Dayan began to explain the reasons for his volte face—Egypt’s adherence to the cease-fire, the Syrian army’s collapse. But Dado cut him off. “Collapse or no collapse—I don’t know. Nor does it matter to me. We’re attacking. Thank you very much. Shalom. Shalom.”
Dayan next asked his aide de camp, Col. Yitzhak Nissiyahu, to contact Col. Lior at the prime minister’s office. “I couldn’t believe my ears,” Lior remarked. “The previous day had been devoted to Dayan’s opposition to conquering the Syrian Golan…The announcement fell like thunder on a clear day.”
Eshkol’s shock was no less total. “That’s despicable. That’s despicable,” he kept mumbling when informed by Lior. Though he fully favored an operation to capture the Banias, at least, the prime minister was livid over Dayan’s impudence, his contempt for democratic norms. “Can I cancel the order now? It’s illogical!” he groaned. “If he thinks he can do whatever he wants, let him do it.”
Six Days of War Page 45
