Thus, militarily speaking the feature usually seen as the single most original characteristic of the IDF—the conscription of women—has in reality been less important than is commonly thought. It has also given rise to many misunderstandings, which is why I have discussed it at some length. Somewhat less original, but much more important, was the system of officer selection, training, and promotion, including its heavy emphasis on proven competence, military experience, and youth and its corresponding neglect of social origin, formal education, and military affectations (such as shoulder straps and gloves). These characteristics apart, the IDF represented not so much an original creation as a typical modern armed force modeled on, and in many ways resembling, those of the principal twentieth-century European states (although, owing to a combination of inexperience and poverty, during the first half of the fifties its organization and equipment still left much to be desired).
Like the forces of other developed countries the IDF was trinitarian, that is, a corporate entity clearly separate from the government on the one hand and the people on the other. Like the forces of other developed countries it was supported by a ministry of defense; its principal role, small by comparison with some others, was to organize the civilian aspects of defense and procure arms for it. Less than the forces of most developed countries it was subject to civilian, particularly parliamentary control. More than them it took overall responsibility for the country’s security including, in particular, intelligence; to be routinely called to report to the Knesset Foreign Affairs and Defense Committee is a privilege that no other Western military intelligence chief enjoys. More than them, too, it had a unified general staff in full command of the three services. Unable to support large forces in peace, it was divided into long-serving professionals, short-serving conscripts, and reservists—an arrangement typical of the majority of the world’s greatest armed forces (Britain and the United States alone excepted) from 1871 on.70 From the early 1950s on, it also developed a strategic-operational doctrine that, in light of the enemies it was facing, was designed to use all these characteristics to the best effect.
Nevertheless, in the end analysis these are matters of detail. Overshadowing them, and making the entire system possible, was the unique position of the IDF in the eyes of Israeli society. It is comparable, if at all, only to the status the armed forces held in Germany from 1871 until 1945.71 The IDF was seen as the one great institution around which a young and heterogeneous nation could rally. This included not only old inhabitants and new immigrants but also right- and left-wing parties; and the situation where the latter were suspicious of the military for reasons of class (as in France around the turn of the century) hardly arose. Though differences in emphasis did exist, perhaps the only Israelis who resolutely opposed the military and all it represented were the charedim (non-Zionist orthodox Jews). Then as now they formed a world apart—in no small measure for that very reason.
The attempt, dating back two or three decades but only now getting into high gear, to create a new type of Jew who would be prepared to defend himself—not to say trigger-happy—had been only too successful. The War of Independence represented the first Jewish victory in more than two thousand years. No wonder Israeli public opinion happily rid itself of traditional Jewish pacifism and fell madly in love with everything military; particularly in kibbutsim the social pressure on young males to join combat units and distinguish themselves was well-nigh intolerable, driving some who did not measure up to suicide.72 When the new state celebrated its first anniversary, in May 1949, the 300,000 people (one-third of the entire population!) who gathered to watch the IDF parade in Tel Aviv were so enthusiastic that they blocked the route, prevented the march-past from being completed, and turned the festivities into a mess.73 Lesson learned, the next time the IDF put itself on display the troops looked and acted like tin soldiers, as one newspaper proudly proclaimed.74 From then until 1968 every single Yom Atsmaut (Independence Day) centered around the inevitable march-past. It was held in various cities in rotation and often welcomed by elevating messages such as “Rejoice Tel Aviv, at TSAHAL entering thine gates.”
Enthusiasm for things military also manifested itself on a day-to-day basis. Anthologies of Jewish heroic deeds, past and present, were printed and often went into many editions owing to their popularity as bar-mitsva presents and the like.75 Martial songs, many of them with Hebrew words fitted to Russian tunes, were constantly broadcast on civilian and the IDF’s radio stations. “How beautiful is the squad, marching through the mountains,” one of them went. “Go out into the streets of the moshava, girls, soldiers are coming!” constituted almost the entire lyrics of another. A third took its inspiration from the colorful language used by NCOs to address their soldiers. One should not underestimate the importance of mere songs. On the contrary, given the massive immigration of those years, they were widely seen and deliberately used as vehicles for creating social cohesion where none had previously existed.76 Doing so was among the missions of the military entertainment troupes that amused civilian and military audiences with songs and sketches about army life. For many years thereafter membership in these troupes (a phenomenon entirely unknown in other Western countries, where military entertainment stands to entertainment as military cooking stands to the chef’s art) was often considered a good visiting card for youngsters seeking to enter Israeli show business.
Besides the standard fare of roses, rainbows, and kissing couples, the greeting cards Israelis sent on New Year’s Day (Rosh Hashanah) often carried pictures of IDF soldiers, jeeps, tanks, combat aircraft, and warships (as did packs of chewing gum, matchbox covers, cigarette packs, etc.). As happened, for example, in the United States after the Civil War and in Germany after World War I, elders used their onetime heroism to lord it over youngsters. The latter, branded first as brarah (offal) and later as the “espresso generation,” sought to emulate the former, perhaps most notoriously by means of unauthorized hikes into enemy territory, during which a number were killed. Two journalists published a collection of “Tall PALMACH Tales” in 1953, which quickly became a best-seller.77 At Purim, the Israeli equivalent of Halloween, no costume was more popular than that of an IDF soldier. The greatest compliment anyone could receive was that he was a “fighter.” Military-style boots were known, somewhat sarcastically, as “heroes’ shoes.”
Far from being mere spontaneous manifestations of popular culture, these attitudes were systematically fostered by the authorities. In the Knesset, Ben Gurion thundered about the need to use the army as a vehicle for creating a race of warrior-settlers who would work the land by day and stand guard at night.78 At a less elevated level, the mayor of Ramat Gan near Tel Aviv used to address hundreds of graduates every year. He was a big-bodied Hagana veteran (while serving in the Ottoman army during World War I he had distinguished himself by stealing the molds of a hand grenade, thus permitting self-manufacture to get under way). In his heavily Russian-accented Hebrew he wished for his audience that they would “become soldiers—heroes—good luck!”
Combined, as they frequently were, with the usual Israeli penchant for indiscipline and slovenliness, in retrospect many of the manifestations of militarism that were characteristic of those years appear ludicrous. At the time they reflected and created exceptionally high morale, which, as Napoleon said, is to the physical aspects of war as three to one. The IDF’s successes, like those of armed forces in other countries, can never be understood without reference to its exalted position in the public mind. The public mind itself was the product of the feeling of en brera (no choice), the importance of which in Israeli history cannot be exaggerated.
En brera rested on the balance of forces. That balance was summed up in the twin concepts of i katan be-toch yam arvi (a small island in an Arab sea) and meatim mul rabbim (the few against the many), both born before independence and serving the state well thereafter. It is true that as of late 1948 the IDF outnumbered all its enemies combined; and since then it has often possesse
d superior weapons and firepower. Yet during much of Israel’s history the perceived ratio of its armed forces to those of neighboring countries has been on the order of one to three. Behind the myth, carefully cultivated by Ben Gurion79 and others, of a small and hopelessly exposed state surrounded by potentially much stronger enemies—enemies bent on destroying it, no less—there existed a solid reality. For decades on end it was not so much doctrine, organization, training, technology, or whatever but en brera and the sense of utter determination that it generated that provided the real dynamo behind Israeli military prowess. Perhaps it was predictable that, if it went, everything else would go as well.
CHAPTER 9
TRIALS BY FIRE
THOUGH THE 1949 armistice agreements put an end to large-scale warfare with the Arab countries, small-scale fighting with the Palestinians—principally those who had recently become refugees—continued. The forced flight of approximately 600,000 people had left entire districts more or less empty. Even before the war ended, abandoned fields were being taken over by Israeli individuals and communal settlements (which often claimed and usually obtained Arab-owned plots and the crops they contained) and the government. Watching the process from improvised camps in Lebanon, Syria, the West Bank, and the Gaza Strip, the former owners could not but feel resentment and anger at the great material and physical losses. Yet the fact that most of the state’s newly established borders did not rest on any geographical features and were, indeed, often unmarked on the ground encouraged infiltration.
Then and later, the motives of the mistanenim (infiltrators) varied.1 Some were armed, but the majority were not. Some merely made brief journeys across the border to visit relatives who stayed behind or to save property such as crops, livestock, and whatever else survived expropriation and could be readily removed. Others planned to make a more permanent return to former homes, and still others came with the deliberate intent of taking revenge. The latter stole livestock, destroyed agricultural equipment, blocked wells, and attacked people; there were woundings, killings, mutilations (to bring back proof of their actions), and, very occasionally, rapes. The establishment of Israel had severed some of the region’s traditional trade routes, particularly those between Egypt and Jordan, which were now separated by the Negev Desert. For this reason, and because in Israel basic foodstuffs were subsidized and therefore much cheaper than in neighboring countries, many infiltrators smuggled goods. Finally, although most acted on their own initiative, a certain percentage worked for the intelligence services of Syria, Egypt, and Jordan in particular.
However understandable the infiltrators’ motives, no state can tolerate a situation whereby its borders are violated hundreds of times a year by thousands of people,2 particularly if some are armed and attack property and citizens. From 1949 to 1956 two hundred to three hundred Israelis were killed by mistanenim, most in border settlements near the Gaza Strip or along the Israel-Jordan border, but some in the very heart of the country—which in any case was never very far from one border or another.3 The number of Israelis wounded was 500-1,000; though no authorized figures estimate damage suffered, it must have amounted to many millions of Israeli pounds (an Israeli pound was worth $.55).4 Even greater were the costs of security measures put in place, working days lost, and the general disruption and demoralization that followed.
Trials by Fire: marking the road into Sinai, 1956.
The Israelis responded on three levels. The first, elementary response was to establish new settlements on the border—on the theory (promoted by Ben Gurion)5 that the presence of Jewish populations would deprive infiltrators of freedom of movement. Most of the settlements were inhabited by new immigrants, but a few were founded by so-called garinim (cores) of young IDF conscripts. The latter were inducted into a special corps known as NACHAL (Noar Chalutsi Lochem, or Fighting-Pioneer Youth). After basic training they spent their military service working on a kibbuts and, after discharge, usually stayed on as civilians.
As commonly done before 1948, border settlements were prepared for defense. Fences were erected, searchlights installed, mines laid, booby traps set, personal arms distributed, training provided, and guard duties imposed. These and similar measures may have helped limit the damage caused by attacks, but apparently they did little if anything to reduce frequency. Furthermore, over time the infiltrators became more sophisticated and responded with measures of their own, such as blowing up an agricultural installation and ambushing the Israelis who came to see what happened. Meanwhile on the Israeli side, security became an intolerable burden as people were expected to stand guard at night and work by day. In 1952-1953, these problems became so severe that some settlements, particularly in the corridor leading to Jerusalem (many populated by new immigrants), came close to being abandoned.
In addition to helping the settlements defend themselves—territorial defense put into practice—there arose the question of whether to use the Israeli armed forces to combat infiltrators. As might be expected, the IDF vehemently opposed the idea of setting up a special organization, claiming that troops best qualified for the mission were its own;6 however, its stance was rejected and a special force, known as Mishmar Ha-gvul (Frontier Guard), established. The Frontier Guard took volunteers who had already completed military service. Many were members of minority groups such as Bedouins, Druze, and Circessians who proved especially well suited for this kind of work, possessing mastery in the use of small arms, fieldcraft, tracking skills, and a good command of Arabic; squeamishness was definitely not included in the job description. Organizationally speaking the Frontier Guard was part of the police, as it remains. In theory the Frontier Guard was responsible for day-to-day operations such as siyurim (patrolling) and maaravim (laying ambushes), the IDF standing in reserve in case of emergency. In practice the two organizations were almost interchangeable, as both wore military uniforms, engaged in all kinds of activities (save that the Frontier Guard was not supposed to cross the border and retaliate against Arab countries), and were called upon to deal with incidents as availability dictated.
Finally, to avenge past incidents and deter future ones, already in 1949 the IDF began to mount raids across the border. On occasion the identity of perpetrators, as well as their place of refuge, was known so that direct action could be taken against them; then and later, however, the real purpose of the raids was so-called indirect deterrence, meaning that the Arab civilian population and the Arab governments were to be punished for failure to stop the infiltrators. As early as mid-1950, Dayan, then serving as CIC Southern Command, claimed that this kind of retaliation, however “unjustified and immoral” it might be, was the only “effective” way to put an end to infiltration.7 Over the next few years he and other leaders repeated this argument time and again.
Initially the government of Israel denied that its forces had mounted border raids, insisting that they had been carried out by “irregulars” and “vigilantes.” Later this masquerade, never very convincing either to the Arabs or to foreign observers, was dropped, and the IDF for the most part not only admitted responsibility but also proudly proclaimed it. During the early days—1950 to 1953—most of the raids were directed against Arab villages that supposedly served as the infiltrators’ starting bases and refuges upon their return. The villages were attacked by mortar fire (occasionally, as hostilities escalated, artillery fire as well), strafed from the air, and attacked by units that fired on the villagers and demolished their houses; when Egyptian and Jordanian troops tried to interfere they were frequently ambushed. The proceedings were rather unappetizing, the IDF responding to civilian killings by indiscriminately killing infiltrators—including, on at least some occasions, some who were unarmed or had surrendered—torturing captives, and mutilating bodies. As if to emphasize that war, if prolonged, becomes an imitative activity that will cause two sides to resemble one another, the IDF increasingly resorted to attacks on property (livestock was expropriated and taken across the border, electricity and telegraph poles
were uprooted, etc.).
The effect of the IDF’s activities on the neighboring Arab populations and governments is debatable. Some Arabs reacted with fear, others with frustration, others with anger. At times the raids encouraged Egyptian and Jordanian authorities in particular to try reining in the infiltrators; on other occasions the outcome was just the reverse, that is, spurring them to acts of revenge. Whatever the Arabs’ reaction, successive years of raids and counterraids proved that the IDF had no effective response to the problem and was incapable of guaranteeing the lives and property of Israeli civilians not only along the border but also, to a lesser extent, in the heart of the country. As Dayan would argue—without a shred of evidence and obviously attempting to justify a policy for which he bore a considerable share of the responsibility—at best the measures only prevented the situation from becoming worse.8
Meanwhile the combination of atrocities committed—news of which occasionally reached the Israeli public in spite of strict censorship—and the IDF’s apparent inability to achieve their objective was beginning to erode the IDF’s fighting power. Surviving evidence shows that through roughly 1951, commanders considered the raids beneficial for the morale of the participating units (one reason for undertaking them in the first place)9 as well as useful for training;10 later the wind changed and one failure began to follow upon another. Thus, in 1952, raids were mounted at Wadi Fukin, Bet Sira, Bet Awa, Idna, Rantis, and Bet Jalla among other places. According to an IDF intelligence division report, all “ended in failure” and caused the IDF to lose prestige in the eyes of its Arab enemies11 (not to mention the effect on Israel’s civilian authorities).12
Then came the Falame village raid on January 25-26, 1953. First, the battalion mounting the operation repeatedly lost its way in the dark. Next, having found its objective, it attacked but was repulsed by a Jordanian force consisting of just twelve riflemen—not Arab Legionaries, mind you, but members of the decidedly second-class National Guard. An attempt to reenter the village on January 28-29 was equally unsuccessful. This failure was followed by a series of others (in one case a navy ship sent to gather intelligence in the Red Sea committed a navigation error, ran aground on the Saudi coast, and had to be rescued). One platoon, sent to blow up a well in the Gaza Strip, lost its way, wandered all night, and finally discovered it had not even crossed the armistice line—whereupon a squad commander hid behind a rock and killed himself with a hand grenade.13 On another occasion an IDF unit, apparently believing it was in the West Bank, attacked a camp of Israeli Bedouin. They killed a seventy-year-old man, two women, three camels, and twenty sheep.14
The Sword And The Olive Page 18