Sending me would delay it a few days, give them a face-saver, and avoid Gromyko coming here with tough instructions. Brent will keep you informed. I will work for a simple cease-fire, with maybe a call for negotiations. The trouble is Israel doesn’t want anything, but I may have to include a reference to 242. I may have to go back to our original status quo ante.
Everyone knows in the Middle East that if they want a peace they have to go through us. Three times they tried through the Soviet Union, and three times they failed.
Later in the day I sent messages to King Hussein and the Shah to inform them of my impending trip, stating that we had made this decision “in response to Soviet urging. . . . My objectives during these talks will remain as they had been since the beginning — an immediate end to the fighting on a basis that will make possible early progress toward a final, just and lasting peace.”
I have since asked myself whether we accepted the Soviet invitation too quickly. Possibly I could have delayed my departure another twenty-four hours — and strengthened Israel’s military position even further. On the other hand, the Soviets would have understood exactly what we were doing, and might have sought to counter our blatant stalling by surfacing a formal resolution at the United Nations or raising the military ante. And Arab frustration would have turned a unified Arab world against the United States. A week earlier I had counseled Israel to delay seeking a cease-fire because I thought the military situation unpromising for postwar diplomacy. But just as it is important not to flinch on the road to strategic success, so it is essential not to press beyond what is sustainable. We had been riding many wild horses simultaneously. We could not now confuse virtuosity with a long-range strategy. We had to avoid risking everything for marginal gains, for we had achieved our fundamental objectives: We had created the conditions for a diplomatic breakthrough. We had vindicated the security of our friends. We had prevented a victory of Soviet arms. We had maintained a relationship with key Arab countries and laid the basis for a dominant role in postwar diplomacy. And we had done all this in the midst of the gravest constitutional crisis of this century.
We held the cards now. Our next challenge was to play our hand.
* * *
I. The combined Egyptian-Syrian attack began at approximately 2:00 P.M. Middle East time, or 8:00 A.M. Washington time. As will be seen, it was some time before our bureaucracy agreed that war had actually begun, or that the Arabs had started it.
II. The cost of mobilizing for the false alarm in May 1973 added to Israel’s hesitation when the real crisis came in October.
III. The State Department’s Bureau of Intelligence and Research (INR), directed by Ray S. Cline, prepared the only farsighted estimate, in late May 1973. Amazingly, it did not dissent from the interagency report, noted above, that war was improbable. But it presented an Information Memorandum to Secretary Rogers on May 31 that viewed the threat of a war for political purposes with “a little more urgency” than the interagency paper. It predicted that if the diplomatic stalemate continued, “our view is that the resumption of hostilities by autumn will become a better than even bet.” Strangely enough, INR abandoned its prediction as war actually approached.
IV. On September 13 the Israeli air force had ambushed and shot down thirteen Syrian Soviet-built jets.
V. Ray Cline, head of INR, later argued in print that while this analysis did not predict an attack, it was “far from saying it was not at all likely.” Mr. Cline is one of our nation’s most distinguished intelligence experts. This does not make him infallible. The reader will have to judge whether a harassed policymaker could possibly draw the inference suggested by Mr. Cline from the conclusion of the INR report.7
VI. The following exchange reflects, however, the beginning of my doubt about our intelligence appraisals of an early Israeli victory:
KISSINGER: How do you explain the cockiness of the Arabs? Why aren’t they calling for a ceasefire?
SCHLESINGER: Euphoria has set in.
COLBY: The Syrians think they’re doing well. They’re not looking at the long term. Egypt may have intended to make only a limited move across the Canal.
KISSINGER: Why aren’t they clinching their gain? Every foreign ambassador who saw Sadat today was told that Egypt didn’t want a cease-fire until they were at the Israeli border.
SCHLESINGER: You’re being logical. You can’t ascribe that kind of logic to them.
RUSH: It’s difficult to think Sadat would cross the Suez and just sit there.
KISSINGER: My judgment is that he will cross the Suez and just sit there. I don’t think he will penetrate further.
XII
Moscow, the Cease-Fire, and the Alert
Journey to Moscow
MY associates and I left for the Soviet Union at two o’clock in the morning on Saturday, October 20, almost exactly two weeks after the outbreak of the war. I gave a lift also to Soviet Ambassador Anatoly Dobrynin, for whom this was the quickest means to get to Moscow. My departure was secret, but shortly after takeoff the White House announced that President Nixon had sent me to Moscow for “direct discussions with the Soviet leadership on means to end the hostilities in the Middle East.”
While we were en route and until negotiations actually started, we enjoyed temporary relief from the anxiety that the Soviets might attempt to exploit Arab passions for an anti-American crusade. But later that day we had a glimpse of other dangerous prospects, with Saudi Arabia’s dramatic announcement that it and other Arab oil producers were embargoing all sale of oil to the United States.
I had told Dobrynin that I never negotiated immediately after a long flight across many time zones and would not be prepared to begin talks until Sunday morning Moscow time, more than thirty-six hours away. In the interval, as he and I both knew, the military situation could only change in our favor. I had consistently told Israeli Ambassador Simcha Dinitz that Israel would be well advised to conduct operations in the knowledge that we would not be able to stall on a cease-fire proposal for more than forty-eight hours. (My trip to Moscow, in the end, doubled that interval.)
While in transit I received two reports from Dinitz. Both matter-of-factly described the location of Israeli forces in terms of place names in Arabic, but gave no indication of Israel’s strategic objectives or of any time-scale required to achieve them. One report made clear that the Israelis indeed understood that a cease-fire was approaching; it also hinted that the exhaustion of Israeli forces might set a limit to their further advances, whatever happened in Moscow:
All our actions have to be guided by considerations related to the possibility of a rapidly approaching cease-fire/standstill. When the cease-fire comes into force it should find us holding a line that makes sense from a politico-military point of view. The further drive that we still have to develop will be made possible by the magnificent fighting spirit of our forces. However, we must bear in mind that they have been engaged in heavy combat almost incessantly since October 6th.
The second report asserted that Israeli forces had cut the road from Cairo to the city of Suez, though the Egyptians were expected to try to reopen it. Egypt’s forces across the Suez Canal consisted of two so-called armies each about 35,000 strong. The Second Army held the northern sector; the Third Army was installed in the south opposite Suez City (see the map on page 566). If the Israelis had cut the Cairo-Suez road, the Third Army was virtually encircled.
In acknowledging these reports I cabled Brent Scowcroft back at the White House:
I cannot overemphasize the urgent need to keep me fully informed of the military situation. I need exact assessments, and I need them quickly and frequently.
Dinitz must, repeat must, report to you at least three times a day, and I must then have those reports immediately. Tell him to get his communications set up now if he has not yet done so. These reports must be clearly identified.
I cannot avoid mistakes if I am not kept fully up to date and know exactly what the situation on the ground is.
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We were not to receive another Israeli military report while I was in Moscow, only information from American sources. I was never given an explanation for this hiatus. Israel’s leaders may themselves have been in the dark about the location of their rapidly moving forces, or about which prong of a multipronged attack would turn out to be the line of most rapid advance.
It was a busy and, as it turned out, fretful journey. I was particularly anxious not to be robbed of bargaining chips in Moscow by some untoward development at home. So I instructed Scowcroft from the plane to resist Defense Department tendencies to ease budgetary pressures by cutting down on our airlift to Israel while I was in Moscow. I reminded Scowcroft: “If the Israelis win, what we do on resupply in the next few days will make no difference; if the Israelis cannot pull it off and bog down I will need all the bargaining leverage I can muster.”
As we approached Moscow, then, I felt we were in a very strong negotiating position. Israel seemed poised to achieve a decisive victory. But my confidence was suddenly shaken by an unexpected message from Nixon. We, on our way to Moscow, were not to know what a fateful day October 20 was for the Presidency. We were ignorant of the dramas of what came to be known as the “Saturday night massacre”: Special Prosecutor Archibald Cox refused to accept summaries of the Nixon tapes reviewed by Senator John Stennis; he wanted the tapes themselves, and he rejected Nixon’s alternative proposal that in exchange for them he renounce the right to subpoena further documents. Nixon forced a showdown by sacking Cox, which led Attorney General Elliot Richardson and Deputy Attorney General William Ruckelshaus to resign as well.
None of this was communicated to the plane carrying me toward Moscow. What was apparent, rather, was an unusual flurry of diplomatic activity on Nixon’s part. It was not unprecedented that on the way to a negotiation I would be bombarded with White House missives. Nixon did this partly to calm his nerves, partly to show he was in charge. It had in the past led to some testy exchanges but not to any serious consequences. This time, however, Nixon took a step that had a significant and irreversible impact on the negotiation. It started with an urgent cable from Scowcroft transmitting the draft of a letter that Nixon intended to send to Brezhnev immediately through the Soviet Embassy in Washington. Its essence was that Nixon was granting me “full authority” and that “the commitments that he [Kissinger] may make in the course of your discussions have my complete support.” Nixon’s letter further appealed to Brezhnev for:
a firm commitment from both of us to devote our personal efforts toward achieving that goal [a final peace] and to provide the strong leadership which our respective friends in the area will find persuasive. I am sending a message to Dr. Kissinger which he will convey orally to you, of my strong personal commitment in this regard.
I was horrified. The letter meant that I would be deprived of any capacity to stall. “Full authority” made it impossible for me from Moscow to refer any tentative agreement to the President for his approval — if only to buy time to consult Israel. Moreover, the letter implied that the Soviets and we would impose an overall Mideast settlement on the parties and that I was empowered to discuss that subject as well — a concession totally contrary to our strategy until now, which sought to separate the cease-fire from a political settlement.
Undoubtedly, Nixon’s eager involvement reflected a desire to be identified with something more elevating than the interminable and sordid legal disputes over the Watergate tapes. The trouble was that Nixon’s communication to Brezhnev lacked his usual fine touch. His desire to tell the Soviet leader that I had his complete confidence was helpful. But his phraseology went far beyond his intention; it did not strengthen my hand. On the contrary, in a situation in which time was our most important ally, it deprived me of the opportunity to procrastinate, hence of maneuvering room.
I therefore flashed a message to Scowcroft uncharacteristically objecting to the grant of full authority: “I must be in a position to insist to the Russians that I must pass the proposals back to the President for his consideration. Any reference to full authority would undercut this ability.” As for the “strong leadership which our respective friends in the area will find persuasive,” I warned Scowcroft delicately that “if the language was ever published, it could prove difficult for the President.”
My message arrived too late. His despair masking as exaltation, Nixon had pressed Scowcroft to have the letter typed for his immediate signature without waiting for my comments. When Nixon threatened to have it prepared and sent by his trusted secretary Rose Mary Woods, Scowcroft yielded. For students of White House lore it is significant that what made the final typed letter irreversible was that Nixon added to it a handwritten postscript: “Mrs. Nixon joins me in sending our best personal regards to Mrs. Brezhnev and to you.” Scowcroft added dryly: “This eliminated any flexibility I may otherwise have had for modification” — meaning that in its absence he might have had the letter retyped with my suggested changes. The letter was delivered to the Soviet Embassy at 11:25 A.M. Washington time.
The Soviets recognize a windfall when they see it, especially when they are in a hurry to settle. Within hours a reply from Brezhnev arrived in Washington — a turnaround time never before or again equaled for an exchange of letters while I was in the White House. Brezhnev fully grasped what had happened:
I understood it exactly the way you stated that Dr. Kissinger being your closest associate who enjoys your full confidence, will this time as well speak on your behalf, and that the commitments he may make in the course of our discussions with him will have your complete support.
And just to keep matters in the family, Brezhnev added a handwritten postscript of his own: “Mrs. Brezhnev is grateful for the regards and in turn joins me in sending our best personal regards to Mrs. Nixon and to you.” I did not find out about Brezhnev’s reply until I saw him in the Kremlin.
History will not record that I resisted many grants of authority. This one I resented bitterly; it was a classic example of how “full powers” can inhibit rather than enhance negotiating flexibility.
We arrived in Moscow around 7:30 on Saturday evening, October 20, for my first visit as Secretary of State. Foreign Minister Andrei Gromyko, now my counterpart, was at the airport to greet me. He escorted us at the customary racing-car speed to our guest villa on the Lenin Hills overlooking the Moscow River. It was the same stodgily opulent residence that had housed me previously; only this time, in honor of my new status as Secretary of State, it flew the American flag — a protocol courtesy that gave me an odd thrill. No sooner had we been installed than we were served the obligatory heavy meal that immediately cut down our mobility. Then our hosts attempted to get around my insistence to Dobrynin that I would not be prepared to negotiate before the next morning. They came up with a clever dodge. Brezhnev invited my party and me to a “private” dinner late Saturday night in the Poliburo office in the Kremlin — never mind that I had just eaten.
A social invitation by the General Secretary could not be refused, whatever our assessment of his motivation. Our minds addled by a fifteen-hour plane trip and our bellies distended by a Russian dinner, we set off at breakneck speed to the Kremlin. Just after nine o’clock Brezhnev received us in what looked like a Churchill jumpsuit in sky blue and ushered us into his inner sanctum. It contained a conference table that could easily seat forty people, opposite the end of which stood a huge desk with a telephone console the shape and dimensions of a medium-sized organ.
Soviet psychological warfare was so effective that we were almost relieved that Brezhnev suggested an “informal” discussion before feeding us yet again. He kept pretty much to the understanding that there would be no negotiation during the first evening — though idle conversation with the ruler of a Communist state is a contradiction in terms. Brezhnev waxed eloquent about the special relationship between the Soviet leadership and Nixon — no doubt as a device to keep me from being too hard-nosed when we got down to serious business. He did not
neglect to remind me that I had “full powers” and therefore would have no need to refer matters to Washington. To procrastinate, I fell in with the spirit of the occasion, discoursing on the principles of forswearing unilateral advantage and avoiding exacerbation of tensions.
The conversation seemed a small price to pay to gain time, though its bizarre quality was not lost on us. The relationship of the two superpowers was being extolled, after all, at the very moment when both sides were introducing thousands of tons of war matériel daily to opposite sides in a desperate war, each seeking to reduce if not eliminate the influence of the other. Brezhnev’s contribution to the pleasant mood was the claim that the Soviets were doing nothing unusual in their air- and sealifts to the Middle East; they were simply fulfilling long-standing, four-year-old agreements “according to which we must send so many guns.” The idea that Moscow, in fueling the Middle East war, was motivated simply by its well-known adherence to legal obligations was a bit much to take, even in the interest of maintaining a noncontentious atmosphere for an evening of stalling. “To us,” I replied sarcastically, “it looks like you are fulfilling the four-year agreement in two weeks. It is an impressive performance.”
No evening with the Soviet leadership could be complete without some bluster. Once again more in sorrow than in anger, Brezhnev invoked the threat of war that was inherent in the Middle East crisis. He used this to press his favorite theme from Zavidovo and San Clemente that the superpowers should impose a comprehensive peace of their own in the Middle East. I turned him down. I had come to discuss a cease-fire, not a settlement, I said. There was some minor sparring, but it was agreed that we would get down to business the next morning, Sunday, at eleven o’clock. The late hour was undoubtedly designed to enable Dobrynin to attend church services, I joked. “That is his innermost desire,” quipped Brezhnev. Both of us knew, in fact, that we would need the time to assess military reports to determine our bargaining positions.
Years of Upheaval Page 81