The Prime Minister’s office had not “yet” been able to confirm, Dinitz added, that Israeli forces had crossed the Canal — implying that it was only a question of time. That he guessed such a move was imminent emerged inevitably from his next point, which was a hint of what I had suspected since the war broke out: Israel might well decide to go beyond the lines at which the war had started and take up new positions deeper in Arab territory, to ensure itself against a repetition of the surprise attack. We had decided early on that we could not support such a move. As we would ask the Arabs, Israel too would have to stop on the prewar line.
Things were going so smoothly that we succeeded in aborting even the General Assembly debate which had worried us so much. I worked out with the President of the General Assembly, the Ecuadorean Leopoldo Benites, that only the parties directly involved would speak in that forum, which would then defer to the Security Council. In the Security Council John Scali was instructed to make a bland, philosophical statement referring to the desirability of reestablishing the prewar line but stopping short of tabling a resolution. In the event, the Security Council debate was devoid of drama. Zayyat focused blame on Israel in standard terms, avoiding serious contention with the United States. Eban with customary eloquence gave exactly the opposite historical interpretation. Between the two they proved the saying that wars are about whose version of history will predominate.
At 5:40 P.M., Dobrynin telephoned to assure me formally that the Soviet Union was “not going to do anything at the Council. No kind of resolution in the Security Council. Our representative in the Security Council has instructions not to have any polemics with the American representative. Meanwhile we continue to consult urgently with the Arab side.” He expressed the hope that we would introduce no resolution until the Soviets had completed consultations with their allies. I promised with alacrity to pursue the course that was in fact our preference.
Immediately afterward, I joined the daily WSAG meeting, which had started in the Situation Room. The CIA reported that the Israelis were pressing their counterattacks on both fronts and had virtually retaken the Golan Heights. We seemed to have reached our goal; Israel would probably win a decisive victory within the next forty-eight hours. Thus the focus was on how we could pick up the pieces and prevent an explosion in the Arab world and a possible oil embargo. The conciliatory attitude of the Soviet Union seemed to reflect its assessment that its Arab friends were losing. Yet again I raised the question that had begun to nag at me: If all this was true, why were the Arabs not grasping at a ceasefire? What did they know that we didn’t? But I permitted myself to be reassured by the consensus of my colleagues: The Arabs were so astonished at their success in getting across the prewar line at all that it had turned their heads. They had talked themselves into an exaltation that would permit retreat only after they had been soundly beaten.
Dinitz and I met at 6:40 P.M. We joked about everybody’s relaxed attitude at the Security Council. Dinitz, convinced that the prewar lines would look very attractive to Egypt and Syria “in two or three days,” reported optimistically:
This morning, our attacks on both fronts were successful. In Syria, they are pushed out of the Heights except Mt. Hermon area. Our people have returned to their settlements to care for the livestock. There was a new charge in Quneitra and now a counterattack. We now have almost complete control of the air situation in spite of the SA-6s which were deployed. At the Egyptian front, we succeeded in destroying part of the Egyptian forces. Tomorrow we will continue. Our air force and armor prevented the Egyptians from bringing further forces across. By tomorrow I’ll be able to tell you of our future plans.
I said that the major task now was to get through the week without an oil cutoff. Dinitz even began to speculate on Israel’s cease-fire conditions. All Israeli prisoners of war in Egypt and Syria would have to be released, even those captured in the years of the “war of attrition” that preceded full-scale war. I replied that we had no objection to the prisoner point but warned that we would not hold still for territorial acquisition. “The only thing I urge strongly is a return to the prewar battle lines.” We would be speeding up delivery of some F-4 Phantom jets that had been approved on the prewar schedule, and we were moving ahead on the earlier requests for special equipment: “Anything you can get on a[n El Al] plane, you can have tonight,” I told Dinitz. In this complacent mood there was only one jarring note. We had learned that Sadat, Asad, and King Faisal were urging Hussein to enter the war. Perhaps their plight was even more desperate than we thought — or else they did not know when they were beaten. We did not give the information much serious thought.
When Nixon and I spoke soon afterward, we were concerned primarily with the postwar diplomacy. “If we bring it off,” I said cockily, “if this thing ends without a blowup with either the Arabs or the Soviets, it will be a miracle and a triumph.” And Nixon entered the spirit of the occasion, his mind also on the postwar period:
Right. The one thing we have to be concerned about, which you and I know looking down the road, is that the Israelis when they finish clobbering the Egyptians and the Syrians, which they will do, will be even more impossible to deal with than before and you and I have got to determine in our own minds, we must have a diplomatic settlement there.
I even found time to deliver my long-prepared speech at the Pacem in Terris conference in Washington that Monday evening, October 8. I had inserted a few sentences warning the Soviet Union: “Our policy with respect to détente is clear: We shall resist aggressive foreign policies. Détente cannot survive irresponsibility in any area, including the Middle East.” But the warnings were intended less as a threat than as an artist’s flourish on a nearly completed canvas. By the end of the third day of the war we went to bed expecting a repeat of the Six Day War of 1967.
But the gods are offended by hubris. They resent the presumption that great events can be taken for granted. Historic changes such as we sought cannot be brought off by virtuoso performances; they must reflect an underlying reality. And that reality caught up with us in the middle of that night.
October 9–10: The Tide Turns Ominously
DINITZ phoned me at 1:45 A.M., shortly after I had gone to sleep, waking me with a puzzling question: What could we do about resupply? I was baffled. By his prognosis of only a few hours earlier, the battle should be turning at about this time toward a decisive victory. What then was the problem? What was needed and why the hurry? The Israeli requests to date had been in the main for special types of ammunition and electronic gear. Almost all the requests had been granted; there had been some bureaucratic foot-dragging by Defense but the Sidewinder missiles had already been picked up. The primary unfulfilled request was for F-4 Phantom jets beyond those in the pipeline whose delivery we had already agreed to accelerate. This presented a special problem in that we had few surplus Phantoms except those coming off the production lines at the rate of about two per month to Israel, and those in our own combat units; to take the latter was bound to raise an outcry both in our armed services and in the Arab world. The unworthy thought crossed my mind that perhaps the Israelis wanted to commit us to a schedule of deliveries now before their probable victory removed the urgency. I told Dinitz that we would talk first thing in the morning, and I went back to bed.
At 3:00 A.M., Dinitz called again with essentially the same urgent message. Unless he wanted to prove to the cabinet that he could get me out of bed at will, something was wrong. I suggested that we sort things out in the morning.
Thus on Tuesday, October 9, we met at 8:20 A.M. in the elegant but little-used Map Room on the ground floor of the White House. Many of my private encounters with Dinitz and his predecessor Rabin (and with Dobrynin) had taken place there when I was national security adviser and wanted the meetings kept secret. It is a little dark, as the view from its windows is nearly obscured by rhododendron bushes. Its walls had been covered with battlefield maps when President Roosevelt used it as his military command post
and communications center during World War II; hence its name. Dinitz had brought along his Armed Forces Attaché, General Mordechai (“Motta”) Gur, to brief me. I was accompanied by Scowcroft and Rodman.
Dinitz and Gur wasted no time. Grimly, they explained that Israel’s losses to date had been staggering and totally unexpected. Forty-nine airplanes, including fourteen Phantoms, had been destroyed. This figure was high but not completely surprising since both Syria and Egypt possessed large quantities of Soviet surface-to-air-missiles. The real shocker was the loss of 500 tanks, 400 on the Egyptian front alone. Dinitz implored me to keep the numbers secret from everyone except the President. If they were known, the Arab countries now standing aloof might join for a knockout blow. Many puzzles cleared up instantly. “So that’s why the Egyptians are so cocky,” I exclaimed. “How did it happen?” Gur explained that a significant number of Israeli tanks were lost on the way to the battle by being run too fast in the desert after having been inadequately maintained in reserve depots. I was so shocked that I indelicately reminded Dinitz of his prediction two nights before of victory by Wednesday. He admitted that “obviously something went wrong.” He did not know what.
Nor did it make any difference. For what Dinitz was reporting would require a fundamental reassessment of strategy. Our entire diplomacy and our resupply policy had been geared to a rapid Israeli victory. These assumptions were now overtaken. But something deeper was involved. I pointed out that the Syrian army, though suffering serious casualties, had not broken. Israel would therefore find it difficult to shift its forces from the Golan to the Sinai. And Israel’s equipment losses on the Egyptian front were about equal to Egypt’s. Israel stood on the threshold of a bitter war of attrition that it could not possibly win given the disparity of manpower. It had to do something decisive. Gur suggested that Israel’s best chance was against Syria. Unless the Egyptian armor ventured significantly beyond the belt of surface-to-air missiles, an Israeli offensive in the Sinai would be too costly. I said that in my judgment Egyptian forces would not make a reckless move. Gur thought differently, that they would try to reach the Mitla and Giddi passes — especially if Syria were under pressure. Luckily for Israel, Gur proved to be right.
Such was Israeli consternation that Dinitz and Gur did not know exactly what Israel’s priorities were, except planes. Tanks, which Israel desperately needed, were in short supply and difficult to transport quickly. Gur suggested shipping some from Europe, but even that would take several weeks. It was agreed that El Al planes could begin to pick up more consumables and electronic equipment immediately. But clearly this small fleet of seven civilian aircraft would not be able to handle heavy equipment. As for the larger items, I promised to assemble a special meeting of the WSAG and give Dinitz our answer before the end of the day.
Gur asked for intelligence information. I instructed Scowcroft “to give them every bit of intelligence we have.” I never doubted that a defeat of Israel by Soviet arms would be a geopolitical disaster for the United States. I urged a quick victory on one front before the UN diplomacy ratified Arab territorial gains everywhere. “We are concentrating now on a fast Syrian victory,” replied Dinitz. “With the Egyptians, it will take longer.”
At the end Dinitz asked to see me alone for five minutes. Prime Minister Meir, he told me, was prepared to come to the United States personally for an hour to plead with President Nixon for urgent arms aid. It could be a secret visit. I rejected the visit out of hand and without checking with Nixon. Such a proposal could reflect only either hysteria or blackmail. A visit would take Golda away from Israel for a minimum of thirty-six hours. Leaving while a major battle was going on would be a sign of such panic that it might bring in all the Arab states still on the sidelines. It would leave Israel leaderless when Golda’s dauntless courage was most needed and major decisions might have to be made. (I learned after the war that at this very moment Dayan was recommending a withdrawal deep into the Sinai.) And because her visit could not be kept secret, we would be forced to announce a massive supply policy, destroying any possibility of mediation. The Arab world would be inflamed against us. The Soviet Union would have a clear field.
At 9:40 A.M. that Tuesday, I urgently convened a special meeting of the WSAG confined to the most senior departmental representatives. Staff was barred to enhance security. I reported the conversation with Dinitz and Gur, omitting the figures for tank losses. My colleagues were skeptical. Colby reported that Israel was doing well on the Syrian front and holding its own in the Sinai; Israel was simply trying to obtain the maximum military aid from us before victory, as a sign of unrestricted support not so much for the war as for the period afterward. Since I chaired the meeting as Presidential Assistant, Deputy Secretary Kenneth Rush spoke for the State Department. There had been no time to give any instructions; Rush supported Colby. Schlesinger saw no problem with sending auxiliary equipment not requiring American technicians. But his concern was that meeting Israel’s requests and thus turning around a battle that the Arabs were winning might blight our relations with the Arabs. Schlesinger pointed out the distinction between defending Israel’s survival within its pre–1967 borders and helping Israel maintain its conquests from the 1967 war. Other participants concurred.
My own view was that events had gone beyond such fine-tuning. Theoretically, the best outcome was an Israeli victory that pushed back the Arabs without producing an Arab debacle. But matters had progressed too far: “Israel has suffered a strategic defeat no matter what happens,” I argued. “They can’t take two-to-one losses.”
Meanwhile, I was becoming dubious about the Soviets’ conduct. They had acquiesced in our stalling tactics because they apparently had better intelligence about the battle than we. Even if that were not so, they must have caught up with events by this time; they were clearly seeking to fish in troubled waters. During a break in the WSAG deliberations I learned from our Ambassador in Amman, Dean Brown, that the Soviet chargé in Jordan had now urged Hussein to enter the battle, promising full Soviet diplomatic support. Later in the day Brezhnev’s appeal on similar lines to President Houari Boumedienne of Algeria was made public. “There are two issues,” I told the WSAG, “supply and the indication the Soviet Union is stirring up the Arabs. We can’t let the Soviet Union get away with this.” How different were our prospects now from those of the night before! I adjourned the meeting and requested that various options for resupplying Israel be prepared by noon. I urged Schlesinger to ship straight from the production line to Israel any Phantoms not yet delivered to American units.
Meanwhile, I sought to thwart the Soviet design to turn the conflict into an Arab holy war. King Hussein had so far declined to enter the battle, even refusing King Faisal’s request the day before to move a Saudi brigade stationed in Jordan into Syria. I sent a message to Hussein appealing to his statesmanship, promising an active American peace effort as soon as the war was over. He replied by expressing his solidarity with the objectives of his Arab brethren and castigating Israel’s refusal since 1967 to make peace. He would exercise self-control for as long as possible, but unless we were able to arrange an early cease-fire he could not hold out. A prolonged war would strengthen the Soviet position in the Arab world.
It was clear to me that there would be no cease-fire unless Israel seemed to be gaining; Israel would have to pull itself together and overcome what was beginning to look like incoherence. To restore confidence, tangible evidence of American assistance was required. At the same time we had to keep the Soviets from seeking to exploit the sudden (at least to us) change in the military situation. During the day I warned Dobrynin against encouraging other nations to enter the conflict. He claimed that the report from Jordan had to be a misunderstanding and that Brezhnev’s appeal to Boumedienne was boilerplate Soviet rhetoric. But when a superpower is “misunderstood” the same way in widely separated capitals, it is a pretty good working definition of design.
When the WSAG reconvened at noon on Tuesday, October
9, it had before it six options to meet the Israeli arms requests, ranging in ascending order from continuing our low-key resupply to commencing all-out support delivered by American planes. There was some skepticism about whether there was an emergency. Colby reported, for example, that Israel had ammunition for at least two more weeks.
But the issue had gone beyond logistic calculations. If Golda was willing to leave Israel in the middle of a war for survival, Israel must be close to panic. (I could not side with cynics on the WSAG who argued that if Golda felt free to come, the war must be close to being won.) Something substantial had to be done for psychological as well as military reasons. But it was in our interest — which on this issue was not identical with Israel’s — to seek the least conspicuous method of delivering supplies. I told the WSAG that I would submit the options to Nixon, who would not be available, however, until the conclusion of a state visit by President Félix Houphouët-Boigny of the Ivory Coast later in the day.
Dinitz was not idle while we were waiting. Telephone calls descended on me from Capitol Hill urging me to stop dragging my feet on arms supply. Dinitz, of course, professed innocence; many Senators had spontaneously come to the same independent conclusion. My low boiling point was exceeded when Senator Frank Church, our scourge on Vietnam and constant critic of “deceitful” methods, urged us to “slip in” a few Phantoms into Israel, presumably without anyone knowing it. I replied that I would not mind if he went public with his appeal — a reversal of our usual positions. I thought there was some advantage in being seen to be pressed by Congress to do more for Israel; it might deflect some of the Arab resentment.
Years of Upheaval Page 73