by Uzi Eilam
After nightfall we were served the traditional pre-operation meal, consisting of inedible meat and potato stew that often caused diarrhea, which resulted in considerable problems during the operations themselves. Before such a major and intimidating operation, our appetites were not that great. Sharon said his final words to us before the operation, and we set out between the fields of the kibbutzim along the Gaza Strip until we reached the border, which was marked by a deep plow-made furrow. We climbed down into the furrow and out the other side, and our hearts skipped a beat as we crossed the border.
Our progress was slow, steady, and quiet. After advancing approximately two kilometers into the Strip in an area between Egyptian positions where it was the safest to walk, a voice called out in Arabic: “Min hada?” (Who’s there?) We did not answer and kept on walking. Suddenly, a single shot broke the silence of the night, and then another one. The shots were not aimed at us and seemed to have been shot in the air. Without asking questions and without wasting a moment, I charged ahead with my force and entered the post. It turned out to be a small external post of one of the bases with a few Egyptian soldiers, and we cleared the trenches with bursts of gunfire as we ran. Suddenly, a dark figure appeared in the trench right in front of me. It was the first Egyptian I had ever encountered, and he was aiming a rifle directly at me. Before he could get off a shot, I shot him from close range and he collapsed in the trench. After searching all the trenches in the post, we concluded that some of the Egyptians had been killed and that the others had fled — most likely back to the primary base. However, no shots were fired from the primary base, and everything was soon quiet again.
After the firefight ended we were joined by Sharon, and I was there to witness his consultation with Supapo. The dilemma was not easy: our target was still a long way off and our presence had already been discovered as a result of the skirmish. Sharon decided to continue anyway, and his decision was supported by the two observers accompanying the force: Lieutenant Colonel David Elazar and Major Michael Kartin. Elazar, who would later serve as Chief of General Staff (CGS) during the Yom Kippur War, was then serving in the IDF’s Training Department. In those days it was the custom to give General Staff officers the opportunity to take part in operations to generate lessons based on their own first-hand impressions.
We continued moving, with my force still leading and Supapo right behind me, until we reached the area surrounding the Egyptian command center, the target of the operation. Sharon positioned his staff at the corner of an orange orchard north of Gaza city just a few hundred meters north of the base.
Supapo began moving his men toward the target. Our plan was to attack the base from the west with two forces: my force from the left and Shapira’s force from the right. The force led by Hillel, my platoon commander, was meant to serve as an offensive reserve, and his men carried bags of explosives to blow up the buildings in the camp after we conquered it. We now followed Supapo, passing the railroad tracks that ran north from Gaza and walking along them to the west. We kept moving, and at a certain point Supapo started to pull the line eastward. “There’s the base!” Supapo whispered, pointing toward a road with fences just beyond it. We ran toward the fence, using our Bangalore Torpedoes (explosive charges in a long pipe) to blow open the gate, and then shot bursts of automatic weapons fire as we fanned into the base. At one point during the battle I felt a razor-sharp pinch in my right arm and knew I had been injured. When the gun-fire died down I asked one of the soldiers to bandage my hand. Then, without paying much attention to the pain, I moved on.
Suddenly we heard deputy battalion commander Davidi call out: “Supapo, it’s not here!” Supapo understood that he had mistaken the base we were supposed to attack for a water pump installation. “Follow me,” he called out after regaining his composure. We left the pump installation and walked quickly in single file along the road to the south. To our right were illuminated fences lined by Egyptian positions. Supapo walked quickly along the illuminated fence, but the entire line of his small force (machine-gunner Uri Spector and two bazooka operators) and my force were then exposed to the sight-line of the Egyptian soldiers in their positions. We were sitting ducks, and we suffered heavy casualties when the Egyptians began to pour down heavy fire upon us. Less than a minute later I heard Supapo cry out in pain and saw him collapse. I reached him in a sprint, and I saw that Uri the machine-gunner had also been hit and was lying injured on the ground next to him, with his stomach blown open. One of the bazooka operators was also down. Calls for a medic rang out from my force and as I bent down over Supapo and saw a gaping hole in his forehead. Seeing that he was dead I asked a medic to tend to the wounded lying in the trench. I climbed down into the trench and tried to engage the Egyptian positions that had attacked us and somehow extract ourselves from the enemy fire that was keeping us pinned down.
As if out of nowhere, Aharon Davidi suddenly appeared. He was standing by one of the eucalyptus trees right next to the road, and I stood up too, feeling uncomfortable sitting down when the deputy battalion commander was standing so close to me. “What’s happening here?” he asked.
“Supapo’s been killed and a lot of men are injured.”
“And what are you doing,” Davidi continued questioning me unhurriedly, as if he did not notice the heavy enemy fire pouring down around us.
“We’re returning fire, trying to take out the Egyptian forces in their positions inside the base,” I answered. Davidi pulled out a grenade from his belt and threw it toward the closest Egyptian position. I also pulled out a grenade and threw it toward one of the positions beyond the base’s fence. And then, without him saying another word, a voice deep inside me implored me to start moving.
“So, what are you going to do?” Davidi asked, and I told him that my plan was to enter the base through its northern perimeter. The wounded were already bandaged and relatively well-protected in the trench by the road. I called out to all those in my force who were still in good shape to come with me. Four soldiers got up and followed me to the northern perimeter of the base. There, we found entangled barbed wire. We cut through with wire cutters and entered the base. I ran ahead, first to clean out the positions within the camp, then to take over the building, and finally to mop up the headquarters. When I reached the center of the camp, Micha Livni, a native of Kibbutz Ginnosar, was shot dead right next to me. I kept running, and my men behind me kept passing me grenades and magazines for my Uzi. Completely focused on the task of taking over the base, I ran ahead without thinking about the dangers. By the time I reached the headquarters building I only had two other soldiers with me, one of whom was Ze’ev Saverdlik.
The headquarters building had been abandoned and suddenly everything was quiet. The silence was eerie, almost deafening after all the gunfire, explosions, and screams of pain. I sent Saverdlik to Davidi to inform him that the entire base had been cleared and that we could now begin blowing up the buildings. I do not remember a great deal about the mad dash taking over the bunkers and the buildings. I can still smell the gunpowder and the explosives of the grenades we threw into each bunker and each building. It was the smell of war. I can still hear the groan of Micha Livni as he was hit with a burst of gunfire and fell to the ground beside me.
A feverish discussion among Sharon, Gur, and Davidi was now underway. The dilemma was whether to withdraw ourselves and all our casualties by truck and to use the vehicle to break through the Egyptian border crossing near Kibbutz Kisufim or to return to Israeli territory by foot, carrying our casualties ourselves. They decided to return by foot on a route that was shorter than the one we had used to reach the base, which passed between the large Egyptian positions. We fashioned improvised stretchers out of shirts and rifles to carry the eight dead and 12 wounded.
In addition to the two stretchers my force carried, I was also assigned the point position on the way back to the border.
Fully aware that all the Egyptian forts in the are
a were now on alert, we began a slow and exhausting march carrying the stretchers. We again made our way between Egyptian positions but now under fire. Fortunately, the Egyptians used tracer ammunition, so we were able to see from where the bursts came and take cover. When a burst ended, we would start walking again. Some of our men were wounded by the Egyptian fire on the way back as well. As we neared the border we found a deep riverbed to walk in, which provided protection from the Egyptian gunfire and enabled us to reach the border with all our stretchers.
I was now able to tend to the wounded and make sure they received medical attention. The battalion had been allocated one ambulance and a doctor, Dr. Shlomo Shibolet, who was waiting for us on the Israeli side of the border. After I made sure that all my men were accounted for and that all the wounded were being tended to, I walked over to the ambulance and told the doctor that I was also injured. “Where have you been this whole time?” he shouted at me. “Go straight to the hospital!”
I arrived at Tel Hashomer hospital early in the morning. Now that the fighting was over I was able to feel my badly injured hand, but it was extremely painful. They immediately transferred me to an operating room, and placed me in the capable hands of Professor Weisman, director of the Orthopedics Unit, who confidently and skillfully stitched me up. I was then transferred back to the ward.
In the late morning, Defense Minister and Prime Minister David Ben-Gurion arrived at Tel Hashomer hospital along with Sharon and Davidi to visit the soldiers who had been wounded in the operation. “Uzi, what are you doing here?” asked Sharon with surprise when they reached my bed.
“I’m wounded,” I said, somewhat seriously and somewhat in jest.
“When were you injured?” asked Davidi.
“Back at the water pump,” I told them.
Davidi looked shocked. “We had no idea,” he said.
For all of us, the Gaza operation was an important test of how we functioned under fire, our dedication to the mission, our determination during combat, and our camaraderie of arms. I received a citation from CGS Moshe Dayan, which was converted to a Medal of Courage after the enactment of the IDF Decorations Law of 1970.
Second Lieutenant Eilam Uzi 245829
Account of the Act:
During a battle in Gaza on February 28, 1955, after breaching an enemy base into which his force fled after disengaging from the enemy, Second Lieutenant Uzi Trachtenberg (Eilam) led his force in storming an enemy base, in conjunction with the other forces, and completed his mission despite being injured. After conquering one part of the base, he was directed — at the head of his force and in conjunction with the other forces — against the second part of the base, which he stormed quickly and decisively, including a zone that had been assigned to a different sub-force. Despite his injury, he displayed initiative and exemplary leadership, including the task of preparing the conquered base for demolition. Second Lieutenant Uzi Trachtenberg remained in command of his squad during the retreat and completed the mission assigned to him in an exemplary manner.
For this act, he is awarded the Medal of Courage,
April 1973
Lieutenant General David Elazar,
Chief of General Staff
A few days later I was discharged from the hospital with my arm in a cast. I stopped by Training Base 12, a base near Tel Aviv where women did their basic training where my girlfriend Naomi was serving as an instructor. The base was closed to visitors in general and male visitors in particular, but I used my red beret, my rank of lieutenant, and my arm cast to persuade the guards to let me in.
I first met Naomi a few weeks earlier under musical circumstances. After I completed my paratroop training course and before I began training A Company, I received a few days of leave which I used to play a few concerts as a trumpet soloist with the kibbutz movement orchestra. I had suggested that I perform Joseph Haydn’s Trumpet Concerto, and I still cannot understand what possessed the orchestra to take me up on my rather audacious offer. In any event, they did. The first concert was held in the dining hall of Kibbutz Usha. I stood at the front of the stage before the orchestra and surveyed the audience. At the back of the room I spotted a woman soldier with green eyes, and during the intermission at the end of the concerto I went straight over to her. I did not say anything, but I did notice that she was wearing squad commanders’ training tags. A few days later, I learned from a young woman from Tel Yosef, who was also taking part in the course at Training Base 12, that there was in fact a young woman from Kibbutz Usha in her course, and that her name was Naomi Meir. I went to the end-of-the-course celebration, and, in the chronicles of the Eilam family, the rest is history.
With my arm in a cast I returned to my battalion, which was now in the final stages of the squad commanders’ training course. I reported to Captain Danny Matt, who had in the meantime been appointed to replace Supapo as company commander. The parents of the trainees and instructors were invited to the final ceremony of the course, and my mother also came. During the review Matt surprised me by asking me to stand before the battalion and then read aloud the citation I had received. I had no idea that they were cooking up such an acknowledgment of my role in the operation, but I realized that it must have been connected to Sharon and Davidi’s look of surprise when they found me wounded in Tel Hashomer hospital.
From Squad Commander to Company Commander — The Big Leap
When I returned from leave Aharon Davidi called me in for a meeting. “We’re building a company out of the remaining soldiers of A Company and the remaining reconnaissance platoon of Unit 101,” he told me “You’ll be in command.” I was speechless. Although my new assignment clearly reflected their faith in me, I was nonetheless consumed by worry in light of the importance of the position. When I told deputy battalion commander Davidi what was bothering me, he told me in his quiet, voice — the same voice I heard during the Gaza operation — “Don’t worry, I’ll guide you.”
The company had two platoons which were commanded by Shapira, who had until that point been a squad commander in A Company, and Oved Ladizinski, a former Palmah member who resumed his military service; both were older and more senior. For me it was the beginning of a challenging and difficult period, but Davidi was always there to advise me. With his help and encouragement I gained the confidence necessary to acquire the standing of a company commander with authority.
A Company of the 890th Battalion was the forerunner of Sayeret Tzanhanim, the paratroop reconnaissance unit that also specializes in special-forces operations. Its natural commander was Meir Har-Zion, but at the time he was working as a sheep herder on his kibbutz, Ein Harod. We shall return to Har-Zion later.
Between Operation Black Arrow and the Khan Yunis Operation, which took place in February and August 1955 respectively, we carried out cross-border reconnaissance patrols with select teams from the company. We also carried out a major battalion-wide training program — the first of its kind — in the Negev desert near the town of Yeruham. Suddenly, I found myself serving as a company commander alongside such well-known leaders as Motta Gur (D-Company commander), Rafael Eitan (E-Company commander), and Danny Matt (B-Company commander).
The 890th Battalion continued to grow stronger during the years that Davidi and Sharon were in command, as its ranks expanded with new companies of new inductees. Training on the company level was almost completely in the hands of the extremely independent company commanders. The battalion command staff spent much of its time planning reprisal operations and cross-border incursions and patrols. The almost automatic response to attacks from across the border — from the Gaza Strip, Jordan, and Syria — was to declare an alert for an operation. The process of convincing the regional command OCs and, with their help, the General Staff and the country’s political leadership often lasted a few days. Sharon wasted no opportunities to carry out reprisal operations, and for this reason he preferred the battalion‘s companies to be on stand
-by at the base so that he would never need to go through the trouble of calling them back early from remote training areas. We knew what the battalion command had recommended and after getting preliminary orders, spent entire days just waiting around on the base for the plans to be approved. Authorizations for such operations were issued sparingly.
Meir Har-Zion Returns to the Sayeret
In late 1955, Meir Har-Zion returned to the battalion after a few months of suspension. In 1954, Meir’s sister Shoshana had taken a hike in Jordanian territory through the Judean desert from Jerusalem to Ein Gedi with her boyfriend Oded Wagmeister. When the two entered Jordanian territory they were captured by Bedouin and murdered. Meir, along with four recently discharged friends from Unit 101, returned to the area where the abduction had taken place, murdered four Bedouin, and sent back the fifth to convey the message that vengeance had been taken. The murders were quickly discovered and the Jordanians filed a complaint with the UN. Ben-Gurion told Sharon that the incident was something that needed to be dealt with, and when the five returned they were arrested by the police. Ben-Gurion ordered that Har-Zion be suspended and sent back to his kibbutz for a few months.
When his suspension ended Har-Zion returned to the battalion to assume command of A Company, the Sayeret, a position which until that point I had held in his stead. I was relieved when Har-Zion returned to assume command. He had been my classmate in the Tel Yosef—Ein Harod joint high school, and I knew that neither I nor anyone else could compete with his navigating skills or his combat experience. In the summer of 1951, while on a hike in northern Israel, Har-Zion and his sister Shoshana crossed the border and were taken prisoner by the Syrian army. Although he never told me about his difficult experience as a prisoner in Syria, I had no doubt that it had a profound influence on him.
Meir and I slipped easily into the non-routine routine of the reconnaissance company: Meir as commander and I as his deputy. We continued to work with our soldiers on navigation and combat training in teams, including reconnaissance work across the border. Initially as part of the 890th Battalion and subsequently as part of the paratroop brigade, the Sayeret set high standards for navigation skills and the precise execution of small-team cross-border operations.
