Six Days of War

by Michael B. Oren

  Visions of impending peace.

  The task, in David Elazar’s view, was simple. “We must push inland, gentlemen,” he told his officers, “as deep and as fast as we can, at least to the Quneitra junction in the north and Butmiya junction in the south. And we have to do all this before the telephone starts ringing.” That call, Elazar knew, would inform him that Israel had undertaken to observe the cease-fire, and that the offensive in the north—the war—was over.

  Operating against this inexorable clock, expecting the Syrians to counterattack, Israeli forces fought obstinately throughout the night. And the Syrians just as resolutely fought back. At the fortified village of Jalabina, a garrison of reserve infantrymen from Syria’s 132nd Brigade, leveling their anti-air-craft guns, held off Israel’s 65th Paratroop Battalion. “Twice I got up to charge the village and twice nobody followed me,” recalled Uzi Finkelstein,and a Israeli company commander whose men, exhausted and shell-shocked, had collapsed between the boulders. Four hours passed before Finkelstein and a small detachment managed to penetrate the village and knock out its heavy guns.

  Mendler’s tanks meanwhile rolled south from Qala’, advancing six miles under heavy artillery and tank bombardment to Wasit. At the Banias, in the north, Syrian mortar batteries waited while Golani Brigade engineers cleared a path through a minefield and only then opened fire. Sixteen Israelis were killed in the action, and four wounded.

  Though the anticipated counterattack had never materialized, the Syrian opposition was so keen—and the attackers’ progress so slowed by it—that by daybreak Elazar had all but given up on the hope of taking Quneitra. Disappointed, convinced that Israel had missed its historic chance, the general went to sleep.

  Half an hour later he was awakened by a phone call from Rabin requesting an update on the offensive. “Yitzhak, I’ve almost finished clearing out the front lines,” Elazar informed him, “though as far as I’m concerned it’s not yet cleaned.”

  Rabin then surprised him. The government was prepared to give the IDF additional time to “straighten out its lines.” Though nothing was said about reaching Quneitra, the operation could proceed. “It seems we have some more time,” the chief of staff said. “We haven’t committed ourselves yet to the cease-fire.”

  “If so,” Dado excitedly replied, “I’m pressing my attack immediately.”1

  The Israeli attack continued, but not so Syrian resistance. When Mendler reached Mansura, a village five miles distant from Wasit, he was surprised to encounter negligible opposition. “We couldn’t make contact with the retreating enemy,” he later testified. “We fired at a number of tanks and they turned out to have been abandoned. All around us was an immense amount of equipment, including tanks and radios, in perfect working condition.” A similar scene greeted the Golani troops after their breakthrough into the fortified Banias village. Apart from several Syrian soldiers found chained to their positions, the trenches were deserted. The assault was completed in less than fifteen minutes.

  At 8:30 A.M., a series of terrific explosions rocked the Golan. The Syrians were blowing up their own bunkers, burning documents, and retreating en masse. With their forward communications cut, unwilling to take charge at the front, Syrian commanders had lost all control over the battlefield. Yet even they were nonplused when Radio Damascus broadcast that Quneitra, a mere forty-five miles southwest of the Syrian capital, had fallen. “We swear to crush the Zionist viper’s head in Quneitra and to leave its deal tail in Tel Aviv,” it said.2

  Crisis and Credibility

  Despairing of receiving help from elsewhere in the Arab world, from the UN, or, most critically, from the Soviet Union, the Syrians had finally snapped. The premature announcement of Quneitra’s fall provided a pretext for the regime to withdraw its forces from the front and to consolidate them around Damascus. The international community might also be spurred to act.3

  The international community was, in fact, acting, as the Security Council reconvened at 4:30 A.M., at Syria’s request. Tomeh alleged that Israeli forces had already occupied Quneitra and from there, were pressing on to Damascus. Federenko accused Israel of “openly misleading the Council, [of] playing for time,” and labelled Rafael a liar. He and the Syrian ambassador pressed Tabor, the Council president, to demand a statement on the exact position of Israeli forces. Rafael refused, however, arguing that the Council had no right to force the representative of any sovereign state to speak, but the pressure on him was growing insufferable. Repeatedly, he fled the Council chamber to phone Eban in Jerusalem and beg him for a clear declaration of policy. “Not only is Israel’s credibility at stake but we are in danger of being condemned by the Security Council, including [by] the United States.” Aware of the postwar diplomatic struggle soon to begin, he warned of the erosion of Israel’s moral position by the refusal to state Israeli goals on the Golan Heights.

  A further pall on Israel’s candor was cast early that morning when UN observers submitted that Israeli jets were bombing Damascus. Rafael strenuously denied the assertion, and noted that the observers had also seen smoke rising from Israeli settlements. But subsequent observer reports all confirmed that IDF planes had been spotted in the capital’s skies. Israel’s Foreign Ministry was compelled to issue its first acknowledgment, albeit oblique, of the battle: IAF jets were not striking Damascus, but providing cover for Israeli land forces. The admission did little to ameliorate the tension, however. Though Goldberg and Caradon called for a resolution ordering both sides to respect the ceasefire, Federenko insisted that Israel, alone, be condemned. “The circle is complete!” he bellowed. “The perpetration of the crime is proved!”4

  Federenko’s rancor was merely a reflection of the Kremlin’s internal malaise. “[These have] been bad…weeks for the Soviet Union,” Britain’s Foreign Office observed. “The outstanding impression must be one of high hopes collapsed, confidence crumbled and a heavy bill to repair delapidations.” Egypt’s ignominious defeat, and the Soviets’ impassivity in the face of it, had exposed the schism between those Politburo members in favor and those opposed to confronting America in the Middle East—between Kosygin and his technocrats and security officials close to Brezhnev.

  That quarrel, together with the slow pace of Soviet decision making—the government met only once weekly, on Thursdays—had all but paralyzed Soviet diplomacy in the first days of the crisis. Former Soviet leader Khrushchev, observing the crisis from the side, bewailed the failure to rein in Nasser, or to correctly guage Israel’s strength. “From the beginning our country made mistakes—the mistake of allowing this war to happen, of allowing Nasser to provoke Israel, to gamble on everything.” Israel and the U.S. had benefited from that gamble, as had the Chinese, their propaganda swiftly maligning Moscow’s reliability. The Arabs were thoroughly disappointed. “The Soviet Union was ready to supply weapons to some Arab countries, to train their armies…to give them economic aid, but it was not prepared to risk military confrontation with the United States in the region,” wrote Arkady Schevchenko, the deputy head of the Soviets’UN mission. The war, he added, had “demonstrated the USSR’s willingness to turn away from these countries in a critical moment after having encouraged the passions which precipitated the showdown.”5

  Not only the Arabs were disillusioned with Moscow, but also its allies in Eastern Europe. They were exasperated with Soviet mishandling of the crisis and, to the degree that they could, told them so at a summit of Warsaw Pact countries on June 10. Prior to that date, few measures had been taken to restore Russia’s tarnished reputation through military means. While air force, paratroopers, and naval vessels in the Mediterranean area had been on high alert since the outset of the war, there had been no major shift in the Soviet army’s disposition. Assistance to the Arabs had been limited to the resupply of war materials, particularly of MiG’s, to Egypt and Iraq.

  But then the IDF broke through on the Golan Heights. Quneitra’s fall was announced and shortly thereafter Israeli planes were reportedly bombing D
amascus. Soviet propaganda organs immediately began charging Israel with “genocide” and plots to achieve world domination. Within the Soviet fleet in the Mediterranean, rumors circulated of imminent military intervention, including possible landing at Haifa. Desperate to avoid any clash, Gromyko proposed a strong but nonviolent response: severing relations with Israel. The decision, according to one former Soviet official, “was more a move in the domestic policy game than a gesture in favor of the Arabs…It was a sop to pacify our hawks.” Yet, with the capital of a major Middle East ally seemingly about to fall, those hawks were not so easily pacified.6

  At 7:30 A.M., the hot line teletype at the White house again began ticking. “Mr. Kosygin wants the president to come to the equipment as soon as possible,” Johnson was informed. Israeli troops were driving on Damascus, the Soviet leader wrote; the consequences were potentially grave:

  A very crucial moment has now arrived which forces us, if military actions are not stopped in the next few hours, to adopt an independent position. We are ready to do this. However, these actions may bring us into a clash which will lead to a grave catastrophe…We propose that you demand from Israel that it unconditionally cease military action…We propose to warn Israel that if this is not fulfilled, necessary action will be taken, including military.

  Further evidence of the Soviet’ seriousness rapidly streamed in. Boris N. Sedov, second secretary and senior KGB official at the Soviet embassy in Washington, approached the State Department’s Raymond Garthoff and informed him of Moscow’s readiness to violate Turkish, Iranian, and Greek air space in order to fly troops into the region. “Four hundred Soviet advisors in Syria have already been authorized to fight,” he said. The British Foreign Office also received a message from the ten Warsaw Pact countries pledging to “do all that is necessary to help the ;peoples of the Arab countries to give a determined rebuff to the aggressor…[and] to guard their lawful rights…The just struggle of the Arab peoples will triumph.”

  In the White House Situation Room “the atmosphere was tense,” According to CIA director Richard Helms, with Johnson and his advisors speaking “in the lowest voices I’ve ever heard.” Ambassador Llewellyn Thompson, who translated Kosygin’s text and rechecked it to ensure that the term “including military” was indeed there, recalled “a time of great concern and utmost gravity.”another cable from the Kremlin arrived at 10:00 reiterating the charge of Israeli designs on Damascus and advising Johnson to confirm that fact with America’s ambassador there—as though Soviets had no knowledge of his ouster. Moscow’s mood had clearly grown impulsive.

  An hour passed while Johnson reviewed his options. Thompson expressed surprise at Kosygin’s commitment to Syria, as compared to Egypt, and wondered if he indeed believed the West wanted the Ba‘th overthrown. Helms thought the Israelis were in fact aiming at Damascus, and asked for confirmation from the field. Yet the focus of the debate was whether the Soviets were serious about intervening or were merely testing America’s resolve. As Thompson put it: “If our replies were polite, we might look as if we were backing down under a threat.”

  Ultimately, the president refrained from making any counterthreat, responding cordially but tersely. He assured kosygin that the U.S. had done its utmost to restrain the Israelis, and urged him to do the same vis-à-vis Syria. “Peace would be served,” he added, if the Kremlin publicly and categorically eschewed Nasser’s Big Lie.

  Only later, after Johnson left the room, did McNamara turn to Thompson and ask, “Don’t you think it might be useful if…we make it clear to them [the Soviets] that we don’t intend to take this lying down? Wouldn’t be a good idea to simply turn the Sixth Fleet and head those two aircraft carriers and their accompanying ships to the Eastern Mediterranean!?”

  Thompson said yes, it would be useful, and helms agreed, recalling that Soviet ships were closely tracking the fleet. “The message is going to get back to Moscow in a hurry.”

  Johnson accepted his advisers’ counsel. “Fine out exactly where the Sixth Fleet is,” he instructed McNamara, “and tell it to turn around.”

  The defense secretary went to the phone and immediately gave the order. The fleet, formerly sailing west of Cyprus between Crete and Rhodes, was instructed to steam eastward to within a hundred miles of Israel’s coast.7

  Along with checking possible Soviet moves, the Americans were also prepared to pressure Israel. Eban had been playing for time, assuring Barbour that Israel had “no intention of going to Damascus” and that it was willing to accept a cease-fire in place the minute Syria stopped shelling the northern settlements. Formerly amenable to these arguments, the American ambassador was now instructed to reject them. The reported fall of Quneitra, he replied, hardly accorded with the need to silence Syria’s guns. “Israel must prove its acceptance of the cease-fire on the ground before the Security Council meets this afternoon, otherwise it will jeopardize its gains on all other fronts,” Barbour warned. In addition to condemnation in the UN and possibly Congress, Israel could find itself facing the Soviets alone.

  At the UN, Goldberg invited Rafael to the delegates’ lounge and urged him to make a statement on Israel’s intention to stop the fighting. If not, he intimated, Federenko would soon declare that “the Soviet government is prepared to use every available means to make Israel respect the cease-fire resolution.” Speaking, he said, on the president’s express instructions,Goldberg confided that “the United States government does not want the war to end as the result of a Soviet ultimatum. This would be disastrous for the future not only of Israel, but of us all. It is your responsibility to act now.”

  In case Goldberg’s point was missed, Eugene Rostow and Nicolas Katzen-bach arranged an emergency meeting with Able Harman and Eppy Evron. “in the most emphatic words” the Israelis were told that they, alone, bore responsibility for the continuing hostilities with Syria. World opinion was turning them, while the Congress “had had its full of the failure to stop the Fighting.” Moreover, with the Soviets “ busy saber-rattling,” it was crucial that Washington be able to assure them that Israel would honor the cease-fire. The undersecretaries were adamant: “Our credibility with the Russians is at stake.”8

  These messages reached Jerusalem just as Eshkol received a cable from Moscow. This noted Israel’s “criminal” violation of UN cease-fire resolutions, its “treasonous” invasion of Syrian territory and advance on Damascus. “If Israel does not cease its action immediately, then the USSR, together with other peace-loving nations, will take sanctions with all the implications thereof,” the Soviets warned.

  To back up their threat, Chuvakhin stormed into Eban’s office and, his voice trembling, announced that, “in light of the continued aggression by Israel against the Arab states, and the flagrant breach of the Security Council’s resolution, the USSR government had decided to break diplomatic relations with Israel.” Eban, improvising his response, acknowledged the bitter differences between Israel and the Soviets, but reasoned that such differences necessitated a strengthening—rather than severing—of ties. “If there was complete harmony,” he said. “it would only be a question of cocktail parties.”

  Chuvakhin lowered his tone and replied, “what Your Excellency is saying is logical, but I haven’t been sent here to be logical. I have come here to tell you about the rupture of relations.” Then, to the foreign minister’s astonishment, the Soviet ambassador burst into tears.

  A scapegoat for the Soviet’ failure in the Middle East, Chuvakhin would soon be ousted from the foreign service and exiled to Siberia. Yet not only the USSR, but nine other Communist bloc countries—Romania was the sole exception—recalled their representatives from Israel. The immediate response of the Israelis was to appeal to Washington for military assistance in the event of direct Soviet involvement in the war. The White House withheld its response.9 Isolated suddenly, facing condemnation it the Security Council and possible clashes with Soviet troops, Israeli leaders had no choice but to pause and reconsider their decisions on a
ttacking Syria, whether it was still worth the risk.

  Playing for the Brink

  “I advise, I think, I believe, that we must and can reach Quneitra and Butmiya,” Elazar stated. “There will be no Syrian counter-attack. Syrian forces are about to collapse.”

  The time was 10 A.M. and the Northern Command chief was addressing an ad hoc meeting of Eshkol, Dayan, Wezman, and Haim Bar-lev. Over the previous hour, Israel Radio’s Arabic channel had been re-broadcasting Syria’s claim of the fall of Quneitra—a claim the Israelis knew to be false but one that they hoped would expedite the enemy’s collapse. Now, in view of the Syrian retreat, the question was: would Israel have the time to exploit it.

  “We must finish quickly. We’re under heavy pressure from the UN,” Eshkol stressed. The prime minister was also resisting demands from Cabinet ministers whose opposition to the offensive had stiffened with the strain in Israel’s relations with the united states, and the rupture of those with Moscow.

  “When can you complete the job?” Dayan wanted to know.

  Dado assured them that Israeli forces would reach their objectives along a line stretching from Majdal Shams in the far north, though Quneitra, to Butmiya by four o’clock that afternoon.

  Eshkol cut in: “If you say four, it could be five or six.”

  “Sir,” the general smiled. “If I say four, I mean two or three.”

  Deputy Operations Chief Ze’evi was seated next to Eshkol, together with Allon and Moshe Carmel, and listening in on the conversation. “My job was to keep squeezing Eshkol for another hour and then another hour of fighting,” Ze’evi later revealed. “The job wasn’t easy; the pressures on him from Washington and New York were enormous. And dayan didn’t like the extensions either.”

  In the end, the defense minister agreed to give the army four additional hours, but not a minute more. At that time he would meet with Gen. Bull and confirm Israel’s acceptance of the cease-fire. “Don’t even ask for air cover after two o’clock,” he concluded.10