A flustered Chuvakhin left the Dan at 4:00 A.M., convinced that his mission had gained nothing. The same could not be said by Dmitri Pojidaev in Cairo, however, when, that same night, he knocked on Nasser’s door.
Sunset on Dawn
“One hour ago, President Johnson informed me that Egyptian forces are preparing an attack on Israeli positions and that this attack is about to be launched. If such a thing happens, then the United States will consider itself freed from the commitments it gave to the USSR to exercise restraint.” Pojidaev read Kosygin’s text to Nasser, adding only that a tougher warning had already been sent to Eshkol. Nasser’s reaction was composed: “It’s essential that everybody know that Egypt does not want war and is not heading in that direction, but will defend itself if attacked.”
But what Nasser knew, and the Soviet ambassador did not, was that Operation Dawn was already set to be launched in only a few hours’ time, at sunrise. Final orders had been issued to the elements involved—air squadrons, ground and naval forces—which were ostensibly prepared to begin the offensive against Israel. ’Amer had been bragging about the overflight of Dimona, of how, with only handheld cameras, the MiG’s had sent all of Israel into a panic. Surely the Zionists would flee at the first shot.
Whether or not Nasser participated in this exultation is not known, only that his mood soured precipitously with the receipt of Kosygin’s message. For him, the crux of the cable was not that the Soviets might fail to aid Egypt, nor even that the Americans might intervene. Rather, it was the proof that Israel had accessed Egyptian secrets and compromised them.111
Nasser hurried to Supreme Headquarters to an emergency meeting with ‘Amer. The president informed him of the exposure of Dawn and of the need to cancel the operation immediately. ‘Amer resisted, protesting, “By waiting, Egypt loses even before the war starts.” But Nasser, rather than simply giving him an order, attempted to explain why he had changed his mind about launching the first strike, why it was better for Egypt to hold back. “What action can we take now that wouldn’t give Johnson and Israel another opportunity that they’re looking for?” he asked. Though the world regarded the massing of Israeli troops as routine, the Egyptians were seen as aggressors, especially after their decisions on UNEF and Tiran. “Many countries would find justice in Johnson’s giving the order to the Sixth Fleet to start operations against us [if Egypt attacked first].” Though he still thought war very probable, he believed that a diplomatic solution might still be found, perhaps through the offices of U Thant.
Nasser’s volte face on Dawn undoubtedly stemmed from security concerns, from the fear of American intervention at a time when the Soviet position was yet unknown, and from his sensitivity to world opinion. But behind these considerations lay the byzantine relationship between the president and his field marshal—a relationship in which Nasser could not impose his decision on ‘Amer, and in which ‘Amer could delay his response to Nasser’s request, saying only that he would “think about it.”
He did, retreating to his private headquarters at home, where he dispatched a cable to Badran in Moscow—“Shams, it seems there is a leak”—and then to Sidqi Mahmud. “When can you implement the Eilat plan?” ’Amer asked.
The forty-three-year-old air force commander had eagerly awaited the attack signal. Israel, he believed, would never permit the blockade of its southern port, and would certainly strike first—unless Egypt did. Now, he ebulliently replied, “One hour at the most and we’ll be ready.”
Orders immediately went out and pilots took to their planes, awaiting the final go-ahead. But then, forty-five minutes later, Sidqi Mahmud received another call: “Cancel the plan.”
The commander was despondent. “Why? Don’t we trust that Allah will aid us?”
“That’s not the point,” ’Amer interrupted, and then spoke of the pressure from Russia. It brought little consolation to Sidqi Mahmud. “When I spoke to the pilots I thought they’d jump with happiness,” he complained. “They want to do something.”
The Egyptian offensive was all but dead, struck down by a chance intervention just short of H-hour. The coup de grâce came later that morning with the capture of five Egyptian officers, all believed to privy to the plan, who stumbled over the Israeli border. Soon reports from Sinai claimed that a force of 500 Israeli vehicles was observed passing through Eilat, heading west. Their objective seemed to be the desert opposite the Egyptian stronghold of Kuntilla—precisely where the IDF had broken through in 1956. ‘Amer quickly ordered massive reinforcements to meet the Israeli threat. As evening fell, Gen. Shazli’s tanks pulled out of Rafah for the grueling journey to Kuntilla, burying in their dust the vestiges of Operation Dawn.112
Reprieve
Shazli pulled out and Abba Eban landed, also at night, and was whisked from the airport to an emergency meeting of the Cabinet. The mood there was petulant, almost explosive. Many ministers were incredulous of the optimistic reports Eban had filed on his talks in London, Paris, and Washington. The headline in the semi-official Davar daily read: “U.S. Did Not Propose Effective Action to Open the Straits.” Notably, no protocol had been sent of the fateful White House discussion. Eban insisted on conveying its contents in person.
Thus kept in the dark, Israeli officials plied Wally Barbour for any information he may have received from the State Department. The American ambassador, alarmed by their desperation, urged Washington to approve Israel’s request for a military liaison, if for no other reason than to dispel the pressure for war. “Eban may be able to provide a voice of reason on his arrival, but I am convinced that the Israel Government’s situation is so closely balanced that this additional exercise is worth the effort.” But no liaison arrived, only Eban, who now faced eighteen ministers in what Col. Lior called “the longest night.”
The meeting took place against the darkening backdrop of threats from the National Religious party to quit the government were it to vote for war and the army’s warnings of disaster if it failed to. In the street outside Eshkol’s Tel Aviv office, the mothers and wives of mobilized soldiers demonstrated in favor of appointing Dayan as defense minister. Nasser’s speech to the trade unionists had been widely reported in Israel, as was Heikal’s editorial welcoming war. That very day, Cairo Radio blared, “We challenge you, Eshkol, to try all your weapons. Put them to the test; they will spell Israel’s death and annihilation.” Tanks and troops of Iraq’s 1st and 8th Mechanized Brigades were heading for Damascus, while the armies of Jordan, Lebanon, and even distant Kuwait, all went on combat footing.113
The Cabinet discussion began with briefings by Yariv and Weizman on the state of the Arabs’ war preparations and the dangers of imminent attack. Rabin revealed his concern for the army’s deteriorating morale and for the possibility that the U.S. would soon start placating Nasser. “The noose is closing around our necks,” he was saying just as Eban, jet-lagged and unshaven, walked in.
Eban first addressed the cables that had been sent to him in Washington, denouncing them as a “cheap trick” designed to justify an Israeli attack and, in the process, implicating Johnson. He did not dwell on his resentment, though, but turned quickly to the American plan. He described its stages—UN “proceedings,” maritime declaration, then the convoy—and the benefits Israel stood to reap through involvement in an international initiative. Johnson was “firm as a rock” on the right of free passage, and would secure it with the 6th Fleet if necessary, but he would never support preemption. If Israel attacked first, Eban warned, it would do so on its own.
A tempestuous discussion followed during which the Eban-Johnson protocol was subject to near-Talmudic scrutiny. “Advising Israel not to act alone was not the same as ordering Israel not to act at all,” one minister pointed out, while another noted the absence of any threat of sanctions, as in 1956. Could it be that Washington was merely signaling an inability to help Israel defend itself without explicitly denying it that right?
Eban cautioned against reading too deeply into John
son’s words. He did not mention Goldberg’s caveat to him, that the president’s promise was conditional on Capitol Hill, but only that the convoy would be ready to launch in a “few weeks.” That period was not too long to wait if the army remained mobilized and Israel stayed focused on its fundamental issues, rather than its prestige. “There are no widows and orphans from prestige,” he said.
Leading the opposition to Eban was Yigal Allon, the Labor Minister, who previously had been away on a state visit to the Soviet Union. There he had done his best to convince Kremlin officials of Israel’s sincerity in exercising restraint, but now, back in Tel Aviv, he asked, “Does anyone around this table really think that we should let the enemy strike first just to prove to the world that they started it?” Allon predicted the renewal of Syrian terror now that Israel’s hands were tied, and that Egypt would strike Dimona the moment America challenged the blockade. “Nasser could portray himself as the hero who saved the Middle East from nuclear weapons.” Israel sought no territorial gain, Allon stressed, only enough to trade for free passage and “to break the enemy’s bones.” He expressed total faith in the IDF’s ability to beat the Egyptians—“The [Galilee] settlers will go down into the shelters, and later we’ll take care of the Syrians, too”—and the respect Israel would gain internationally once it did.
A succession of ministers then seconded Allon’s position. Haim Givati, in charge of agriculture, warned of the danger of Israel becoming an American protectorate, of the damage to the nation’s morale. Zvi Dinstein and Israel Galili spoke of the Emperor’s New Clothes factor—Nasser’s exposure of Israel’s unwillingness to fight—and of the potential fall of Jordan. “Israel can only be saved by destroying Egypt’s power,” averred Moshe Carmel. “Anyone who says we can’t stand alone is saying that we can’t exist here.” The generals, Rabin and Weizman, also threw their weight behind Allon. Weizman protested the lack of faith in the IDF, taking it as a personal affront. “We’ll beat the Arabs simply because we’re better,” he vaunted. Rabin was more subdued: “If the State of Israel thinks that its existence hangs on an American commitment and not on its own power—I have nothing more to say.”
Yet, for every naysayer another minister rose in support of Eban. There was, as in the past, Haim Moshe Shapira declaring, “I have more confidence in the American promises than I do in the IDF’s ability to break the Egyptian army,” and Aran and Warhaftig expressing their faith in LBJ. Yisrael Barzilai, from the left-wing Mapam party, worried that America’s backing of Israel was less than that of the USSR for the Arabs, while Moshe Kol, the tourism minister, warned of the hazards of alienating Washington. Finance Minister Pinchas Sapir, unexpectedly, expressed doubts whether Israel could sustain casualties as well as the Arabs. He concluded, “It’s hard to create a state but easy to lose one.”
Caught between these two camps, once again torn, was Levi Eshkol. The prime minister reviewed the pros and cons of the situation—the loss of Israel’s deterrence power versus time to raise additional arms and money; his reluctance to trust Johnson as opposed to Israel’s need to “show we’re the good guys.” The American plan, he knew, offered no solution to the Egyptian military threat or to Palestinian terror, and greatly limited Israel’s maneuverability. Yet the prospect of defying the world’s only sympathetic superpower was daunting.
The schisms in Eshkol’s thoughts were reflective of those dividing the Cabinet. At 4:00 A.M., “weary and dejected,” according to Rabin, Eshkol called a recess to give the ministers several hours’ sleep before voting. “We must decide in whose hands we will place this generation,” he exhorted them, “into fate’s, America’s, or Chuvakhin’s.” The meeting adjourned while, over the next few hours, two top-secret telegrams arrived from Washington.
The first of these shored up Eban’s credibility by reconfirming Johnson’s support for the Regatta plan and his willingness to pursue “any and all measures in his power” to reopen the Straits. An addendum from Rusk further indicated that Canada and the Netherlands were inclined to join the operation. The second cable, hand-delivered by Barbour, contained the president’s reaction to Moscow’s assertion that Israel, and not Egypt, was preparing to strike. “It is essential that Israel not take any preemptive military action and thereby make itself responsible for the initiation of hostilities,” Johnson wrote, and warned of the possibility of direct Soviet intervention. “Preemptive action by Israel would make it impossible for the friends of Israel to stand at your side.”
The communications served to tilt the balance in the Cabinet when it reconvened early on Sunday afternoon. Instead of a slight majority in favor of war, a straw poll revealed a deadlock. Nine ministers (from the NRP and Mapam, mostly, with one Independent Liberal and two members of Mapai) were opposed to a preemption, and nine, including the prime minister, supported it. With the exception of Carmel, all present recommended continued talks with the Americans.
The government concluded its session by resolving to wait as long as three weeks for the U.S. to act on its promise, and to utilize that time to garner international sympathy, raise money, and purchase arms. In the interim, no further demand would be made for reconstituting UNEF, nor would Israel consider reviving the Armistice until the status quo was restored in Sinai and Egypt ceased all forms of blockade. A communiqué would be issued affirming that Israel “views the closure of the Straits of Tiran as an act of belligerency and will defend itself against it, at the appropriate time, in exercising its rights to self-defense as all states have.”
Rabin was sorely disappointed. “I’m certain that in another three weeks we’ll find ourselves facing the same problem but under harder conditions,” he ventured. “Now the IDF faces its biggest challenge: to remain mobilized without acting.” Allon also thought that Israel had “missed the boat militarily and politically,” but half the Cabinet thought otherwise. Zalman Aran seemed to speak for that half when he told Mapai members that, “I wasn’t sure that it [diplomacy] would prevent any war—I had no illusions. But if there was one chance—we must find it. The war would not run away and diplomatic activity would continue. Nasser is not the only one who can exploit time.”114
By the thinnest margins, war had been averted—a war that, whether started by Israel or Egypt, at that stage would have radically altered the subsequent history of the Middle East. With Nasser’s decision not to launch a first strike, followed closely by Israel’s, the crisis appeared to have crested. To varying degrees, both sides had committed themselves to explore nonviolent solutions.
A step toward such a solution was set out in U Thant’s long-awaited report on May 27. Though over half the text was devoted to justifying his actions on UNEF (“I had very good reasons to be convinced of the earnestness and the determination of the UAR in requesting the withdrawal”), and much emphasis was placed on reviving the Armistice machinery, the secretary-general did manage to set out his moratorium concept. He called on all parties to “exercise special restraint [and] forgo belligerence,” and referred to “possible steps…to help reduce tension,” by which he meant the appointment of a UN mediator. In Israel, Eshkol decided to demobilize as many as 40,000 reservists. Nasser concluded that he now had a “breathing spell” of two weeks at least in which to consider his options.115
But the impression of de-escalation was deceiving. Disgruntled with the Cabinet’s decision to delay a preemptive strike, incredulous of America’s commitment to help Israel, IDF leaders ignored Eshkol’s orders and continued to call up the reserves. Within the army’s senior ranks the conviction spread that the government was incapable of handling the emergency, and had to be prodded out of its stupor. The prime minister’s position, already shaky, was further undermined when, in preparing to inform the Knesset of Eban’s talks, Eshkol received a warning from Washington. His remarks were to make no mention of the convoy proposal, no reference to America’s “unambiguous attitude” and “forceful determination” to reopen the Straits. Even the request for an Israeli liaison with the U.S. arm
y failed to receive approval.116
Shams Badran, on the other hand, returned triumphantly from Moscow. Just prior to departing, Marshal Grechko had pulled Egypt’s defense minister aside and told him that “if America enters the war we will enter it on your side.” The USSR, he said, had sent destroyers and submarines to the waters near Egypt, some armed with missiles and “secret weapons.”“I want to confirm to you that if something happens and you need us, just send us a signal. We will come to your aid immediately in Port Said or elsewhere.” This pronouncement—“only normal Russian expressions while tossing back vodka and bidding Badran farewell,” thought the diplomat Salah Bassiouny—was richly embellished by Cairo Radio, in a broadcast that Moscow did nothing to disavow:
The USSR, its government and its army, will stand by the Arabs and will continue to support and encourage them. We are your loyal friends and shall remain so. We the armed forces will continue to aid you for this is the policy of the Soviet people and their party. In the name of the Ministry of Defense and in the name of the Soviet People we wish you success and victory against imperialist Zionism. We are with you and are willing to help you at every moment.
Badran, who had hindered other delegation members from reporting Kosygin’s urgings of caution, was convinced that Egypt was now invincible. “If the Sixth Fleet intervenes in our struggle with Israel, our bombers together with our missile boats can destroy its largest carriers,” he boasted to several government ministers. “We have the power to turn it into a can of sardines.” Confirmation of his estimates came from Syria’s President Atassi who had just returned from his own visit to Moscow. Though he, too, had been told by Soviet leaders to exercise restraint and to halt al-Fatah raids into Israel, Atassi declared that “the USSR pledged to stand firm against any aggression to which the Arab people are exposed by Israel.”
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