Flying to Tel Aviv, an outraged Elazar met with Eshkol (for some reason all the prime minister’s secretaries had disappeared and his wife was answering the telephone); unable to change his mind, he went back to his command post. That same evening a Cabinet meeting was held and Dayan, seeking to restrain the aggressive tendencies of Rabin, Allon, and Eshkol himself, explained his reasoning. The war against Egypt was not yet over; the Soviets were making threatening noises and might intervene; the Israeli canary had swallowed two cats—Egypt and Jordan—enough of a meal even without also adding Syria.38 That night, however, Dayan changed his mind. As he later explained, the Egyptians had agreed to a cease-fire, which in turn poured cold water on the Soviet threats. At 0400 hours on June 9, informing neither the prime minister nor the chief of staff, both out of reach (or so he later claimed), Dayan called Elazar. The CO Northern Command was ordered to storm the Golan Heights that day. So much for command, optional or otherwise.
Once unleashed, Elazar proved as aggressive as his fellow commanders. Already on June 6 the Syrian positions had come under heavy attack at the hands of the IAF. Elazar now postponed his assault from early to late morning—thus enabling Hod’s pilots to fly another two hundred sorties and rain down four hundred tons of bombs, a tremendous amount of firepower by standards of the day; as it turned out the effort was insufficiently accurate to knock out the well-sited Syrian artillery positions.39 Originally the Israeli plan was to take the Golan Heights from each end. Against the southern end they planned to bring up a variety of paratrooper and mechanized infantry units; these had previously been fighting against the Jordanians, however, and had to be brought up first. At this time Israeli lack of traffic discipline made itself felt, creating a jam that delayed the effort an entire day. As a result the main Israeli effort was made by the two brigades (one armored, one infantry) deployed facing the northern end of the Golan Heights. Opposite the central Golan, Elazar had a brigade of mechanized infantry and “U” Armored Brigade. The latter had already been bloodied by the Jordanians at Jenin but arrived in time to lead the effort in this sector.
On the face of it four brigades (discounting the force in the south) were not much to confront the Syrians. But the topography made lateral movement along the slopes impossible, so the three Syrian brigades who occupied positions on those slopes were stationary. As the IDF concentrated all its forces in two narrow wedges, only the units immediately facing them were actually hit and could fight back, whereas the remainder could not come to their support without making huge detours. The six Syrian brigades stationed on the plateau, including most of their armor, never intervened in the battle—the reason presumably being that doing so would make them easy targets for the IAF.
At 1130 hours on June 9 the advance started. The narrow approaches allowed little room for tactical, much less operational finesse; proceeding under cover of heavy air and artillery bombardment, and in some places preceded by bulldozers, teams of tanks and infantry advanced separately on the northern and central axes. The Syrian lines had been built so as to overlook each other, each successive line supported by the line behind. Now they mismanaged the battle, failing to redirect their guns; thus the farther up the slopes the IDF units climbed, the less artillery fire they received.
Ideally the attack would have been delivered by tanks and infantry working together, the former using their cannons to deliver direct fire and covering the latter’s approach. Such had been the IDF’s modus operandi as long ago as the last successful attack on Iraq Suedan in 1948. By 1967, however, that hard-learned lesson had long been forgotten. From 1956 on, the IDF was organized almost exclusively for mobile warfare, what with the armored corps looking at the infantry as an encumbrance and devising derogatory nicknames for them. Consequently the infantrymen of Golani in particular found themselves advancing very much on their own. On their way up they got involved in several hand-to-hand fights for individual positions. The positions were taken for a heavy price in blood and might have been avoided if Elazar (and Rabin) paid more attention to the peculiar conditions on this front.
Nevertheless, on the evening of June 9 the most important positions—bearing names that still strike a chord among Israelis familiar with the war, such as Tel Azaziyat and Tel Fachar—had been taken, and the IDF was standing on the escarpment. On the northern axis stood Golani Infantry Brigade and Col. Albert Mandler’s armored brigade, both of them thoroughly exhausted but about to be reinforced by another armored brigade (“B” Brigade, which had been brought back from the Jenin area). In the center the forward unit (“U” Brigade) had also been overtaken by the mechanized brigade that had been standing by in this sector and was sent up the plateau during the night. Thus Elazar had available a total of five brigades (one entirely fresh) against the remnants of the Syrian forces trying to escape from the slopes and the six uncommitted brigades that, indeed, were ordered to retreat that very night. However, at this point the IDF’s lack of previous planning made itself felt. Apparently there had been no thought given by the General Staff to the campaign’s final objectives. Nor were there any topographical features that could have forced a halt or at least a delay.
In face of this uncertainty, and expecting a UN-imposed cease-fire to come into effect at any moment, the Israelis advanced rather gingerly. In the south, Brig. Gen. Elad Peled, with various units forming an improvised ugda, climbed up the winding road that leads from Tsemach to the plateau, meeting no opposition. A paratrooper battalion belonging to this force was landed by helicopter but, arriving at Fiq (where the Syrians had their base), found it empty. In the center, “U” Brigade made toward Kuneitra on the main road to Damascus, hoping to catch the Syrians in a trap as “B” Brigade came down from the north. The night having been largely wasted, however, the pincer movement planned by Elazar came too late. Resistance was scattered; meanwhile the Syrian operational reserves (along with two-thirds with all available tanks) escaped, as did some of the forces stationed on the slopes. The decision where to halt was left to the discretion of junior commanders who captured this position or that as it suited them. It is a tribute to their tactical sense that the line that eventually emerged was defensible, including the southern slopes of Mount Hermon as well as two critical hills—Chermonit and Booster—in the center. Still, and as Brigadier General Elazar was forced to concede during his postmortem analysis, the Syrian army had not been annihilated.40
Owing to geographical circumstances and the lack of enterprise shown by the Arab navies, the Six Day War was fought above all in the air and on land. The Israeli navy at that time still consisted of two World War II destroyers (a third, the former Egyptian Ibrahim al Awwal, was hurriedly recommissioned and rechristened Haifa), three submarines, and a number of smaller vessels such as torpedo boats and landing craft—not much of a force to face seven Egyptian destroyers, twelve submarines, and eighteen Soviet-built Komar- and Ossa-class missile boats. Yet in practice the disparity was less than the figures would indicate, one-third of the Egyptian navy having been moved to the Red Sea in the wake of a successful Israeli feint. Torpedo boats were brought up by day, withdrawn by night, and returned the next day, thus creating the impression of a much larger force.
On June 5 the Israeli navy at once took the initiative, sending out submarines that in turn launched frogmen into the Egyptian bases of Alexandria and Port Said. Six frogmen were forced to the surface and captured; in return all they had to show for their sacrifice was the sinking of a small dredging vessel.41 On the next day, June 6, the Egyptians in turn sent two destroyers with some escorting vessels against Elat, one submarine against Haifa, and one submarine against Ashdod. In the event the task force in the Red Sea never made it to Elat, turning back after its presence had been detected by the IAF—a wise decision, some would say.42 The submarines were located by Israeli sonar, attacked with depth charges, and forced to retreat without having achieved anything in particular.
At the time and for years thereafter, the Six Day War was represented as an al
most flawless victory; “a superb application of the strategy of indirect approach,”43 enthused Basil Liddell Hart. A great victory it had undeniably been, and much of it was due to the IAF. Properly equipped and properly commanded, it attacked without warning, taking Egypt’s air force (its strongest enemy) totally by surprise and all but annihilating it before it could respond. During the next few days the IAF roamed over the area at will, using open terrain (there was little cover to be found in the Sinai or on the slopes of the Golan Heights) and clear skies to rain destruction upon stationary and moving targets. The IAF helped Tal’s and Yoffe’s Centurions demolish the Egyptian antitank “shields” they faced; the IAF, too, was responsible for most of the vast destruction inflicted on the retreating Egyptians at Mitla Pass. Yet victory did not come cheap: some 40 aircraft,44 almost all lost to antiaircraft fire. The short turnaround time of its aircraft, plus the fact that many more pilots than planes were available, enabled the IAF to fly far more sorties than its order of battle could be expected to deliver (as many as 1,000 a day).45 Still, had the campaign lasted longer inevitably the pace of operations would have slowed as aircraft suffered damage or required maintenance, pilots became exhausted, and the like.
Thanks in large part to the IAF’s command of the sky, the IDF’s ability to switch units from one front to another also commands respect, acting as a force multiplier and playing a critical role in its victory. In all, about one-quarter of its forces had been engaged on more than one front. Not so its Arab enemies, who were operating on external lines and without unity of command. In spite of the appointment of an Egyptian general to command the Jordanian army, cooperation with the Egyptians was tenuous in the extreme. In their turn, the Syrians cooperated with nobody at all and, apart from shelling the settlements, merely stood by with arms folded as their allies were destroyed.
The picture on each individual front was similar. With commanders riding along, Israeli brigades went where they were sent. They did what they were told promptly, without hesitation, and as Eytan’s paratroopers south of Rafah demonstrated, even when communications were difficult or absent. Not so on the Arab side, where perhaps two-thirds to three-quarters of all units involved were intended for stationary defense only, occupying positions and sometimes holding them but being unable to support one another. When directly attacked, Arab units generally fought well. However, as in 1956 they proved not to have the flexibility to respond to threats directed against them from unexpected directions—or even to shift artillery fire with sufficient speed.46 To make things worse, except for the Jordanians most commanders positioned themselves in the rear; indeed not seldom the officers were the first to flee.
Thus in the Sinai a combination of faulty command arrangements and a lack of initiative on the part of subordinate commanders was largely responsible for the rapid fall of Abu Ageila. Probably because King Hussein had not yet made up his mind whether to enter the war in earnest, the crack Jordanian 60th Armored Brigade spent the whole of June 5 in the Jordan Valley doing nothing at a time when, the IAF being occupied elsewhere, it might have come to Jerusalem’s aid. The Syrians also failed to use the night of June 9-10 to organize a counterattack against the exhausted Israelis who just reached the escarpment (something they might well have done given the IAF’s limited night capability).
As to Israeli strategy and operational art, Liddell Hart’s claim that this had been “the most brilliant application of the indirect approach in history” was clearly nonsensical. Contrary to the usual interpretation, the Egyptians were not deceived as to the direction from which the main Israeli assault would come—from north to south—and positioned their forces to meet it at Rafah, Al Arish, and Abu Ageila; to the south was only the Shazly Force, not even attacked by the IDF. There was nothing particularly indirect about 7th Armored Brigade’s thrust into the northern Sinai or Elazar’s battle against the Syrians. As we saw, the one “indirect” part of that operation, a heliborne landing on the southern edge of the Golan Heights, had to be postponed as the paratroopers were stuck in traffic. When it finally came, the bird had already flown.
Mounted as it was from the north and rear, the attack at Abu Ageila was in some sense “indirect.” Still, its success was due above all to the operational genius of Ariel Sharon in precisely planning the battle and coordinating his forces; once it had been won, however, he failed to exploit. In fact it might be argued that the most “indirect” ground operation was the one by Yoffe’s ugda. Refusing to be stopped by “impassable” terrain, it penetrated between two Egyptian strongholds. Next one of its brigades bottled up the Egyptian forces in the northeastern Sinai; the other, in an even more daring maneuver, reached out to block Giddi and Mitla Passes. Yoffe, however, was a reserve officer, as was the commander of his “I” Brigade, Col. Yissaschar Shadmi. Neither was any longer in the promotion game. Perhaps for this reason their achievement tended to be underplayed; after all, it would hardly do for regulars to admit that civilians could do as well.
Passing from the operational level to the tactical level: It could be argued that the most important fault that would become evident in 1973—namely, insufficient cooperation between the tanks and the rest of the ground forces—was present in 1967. Only Sharon, a bona fide tactical and operational genius, knew how to “orchestrate” every unit at his disposal, using the strengths of one to cover the weakness of another and vice versa; elsewhere it was a different story (as at the Jirardi Defile). So too the Golani infantrymen on the Golan Heights.47 In contrast the mechanized brigade that outflanked Jerusalem from the north did much better against the Jordanians, driving as it did over terrain unsuitable for armor but making proper use of its attached Sherman tanks and consequently suffering fewer casualties. However, the Israelis were reluctant to recognize this shortcoming. Instead they stuck to the “all-tank” approach fully three decades after it had been abandoned by every other leading army in the world—with grave consequences (see Chapter 12).
In war morale is to materiel as three to one. To the Israelis, this was not an instrumental, Clausewitzian war. Far from a continuation of policy by other means, the war broke out at the precise moment when policy, in the form of Abba Eban’s humiliating requests for Western aid in opening the Straits of Tyran, broke down. It seemed unable to guarantee Israel’s continued existence, with the result that, among a people who had always been rather trigger happy, en brera took over and ends and means became fused.48 The fact that Elazar, on Rabin’s orders and with Eshkol’s consent, had consistently provoked the Syrians was known only to a very few. Nor was it until almost thirty years later that Shimon Peres stated that, in his opinion, Israel in 1967 had possessed whatever it would have taken to deter the war.49 Though perhaps unjustified in retrospect, the raw fear that gripped the Israeli public during the waiting period was real enough. It led to an iron consensus or, to put it in a different way, one of those rare instances when the political objectives of the state all but coincide with the feelings of its people.
As often written and said at the time, when the IDF finally broke loose it was like a tremendous spring being released. Nothing mattered any longer, not even the fear of incurring casualties. Was not Nasser a second Hitler? Was not another Holocaust just around the corner? Thus motivated, the Israelis fought like demons. In the Jirardi Defile, at Ammunition Hill, and in front of some of the stronger Syrian positions they “stared death in the eye until he looked away” (in the words of Col. Shmuel Gonen at 7th Armored Brigade’s victory parade), freely giving their lives even when more thought and less brawn might have dictated different, and better, tactics. The same is true of the air force, most of its losses due to pilots flying very low to hit targets accurately with the comparatively primitive equipment available.
In general, the outcome of the Six Day War was welcomed with great fanfare not only in Israel but in the West as a whole. In part this was because the victory was seen as a defeat for the Soviet Union during the Cold War; after all, Western arms and Western doctrines triu
mphed over Eastern ones, even if the latter had been executed by Arabs and even though the former had often been obtained by Israel with great difficulty and in spite of the owners’ reluctance to sell. Then, too, Israel’s lightning victory saved the West from the horns of a dilemma: either come to its aid in accordance with the American-British-French declaration of 1957 or stand by as it went down to defeat. At bottom, though, the war was perhaps seen not so much as a triumph of Jew over Arab as of modernity over backwardness.50 The war happened to take place toward the end of a twenty-odd-year period during which the armed forces of one “Western” country after another had suffered defeat at the hands of insurgents in their former colonies—and when those of the largest “Western” country of all were being first halted and then defeated by little brown men (and women) wearing black pajamas. Thus it helped reaffirm those countries in the feeling of their own superiority. As The Economist trumpeted: “They did it!”51
In Israel itself the IDF and its victory were also celebrated by all possible means. During the war the media, especially the publicly owned radio stations (there was no television), had been relatively restrained. Once it was over, however, all caution was thrown to the wind, and the feeling prevailed that a miracle had just occurred. Such a victory, many felt, could only have come about as a result of divine intervention. A crop of new popular songs sprouted almost immediately. The most famous (actually written just before the war but quickly modified to suit the circumstances) was devoted to “Golden Jerusalem”; others, less well known, serenaded everything from the beauties of Sharm al-Sheikh (“which is always in our hearts”) to the “thousands of men” (in reality, a battalion) who had assaulted Ammunition Hill and, shedding their blood, turned it into “sacred” ground. Dozens of coffee table books were published; some even included some empty pages so heroes could write down reminiscences for grandchildren to read and profit from.
The Sword And The Olive Page 27