Starting at Metulla, Ben Gal’s corps drove northeast toward the Beqa Valley where the Syrians maintained a reinforced division (another division was stationed west of Damascus and was to start moving into Lebanon on June 10).20 Even without Einan on his left he enjoyed 2:1 superiority; now he advanced gingerly, overrunning “Fatachland” and driving the PLO before him. However, even more so than along the coast (where there was at least an attempt to provide a blocking force in the form of the amphibious operation and the linkup with Kahalani) there could be no question of preventing hundreds of guerrillas from making good their escape into the Syrian lines. From there they continued to harass the IDF columns advancing from the south and seeking to outflank them from the west. As Palestinians and Syrians became intermixed a clash between the latter and the IDF became inevitable. On June 9 it came, regardless of whether it had been planned by Sharon.
Throughout these days the IAF had been taking an active part in the campaign. It strafed and bombed targets along the coastal highway in particular but left little impression, for the enemy, having for the most part abandoned all vehicles, walked north in small parties. Now it was presented with the opportunity to show its mettle against the Syrian antiaircraft defenses in the Beqa: nineteen batteries of surface-to-air missiles with the usual support of deadly ZSU 23-4 (meaning four 23mm barrels), capable of spitting out four thousand shells per minute. The IAF for its part had been preparing at least a year, overflying the area in a cat-and-mouse game in order to pinpoint the batteries and discover the Syrian radar operating frequencies.
The details of the attack that began on the afternoon of June 9 have never been divulged.21 Certainly there must have been a combination of various weapons, including RPVs (sent up to force the Syrians to switch on their radars) and Phantoms and F-16 fighter-bombers, which launched homing missiles at the sites; the missile batteries were probably attacked with cluster bombs, the proper weapon against such soft targets. Long-range artillery may have carried part of the load, the Israelis having developed a rocket-assisted round for the M-107 175mm guns that extended range to as far as twenty-five miles. As the attack began, Syria’s air force scrambled to intercept but found that its planes were identified ahead of time by IAF Hawkeyes and shot down. On June 9 and 10 there accordingly developed a series of massive air-to-air battles during which almost one hundred Syrian fighters were shot down against a single Israeli plane.
The IAF destroyed the Syrian antiaircraft defense system in Lebanon and eliminated approximately one-fifth of Syria’s air force, which illustrates the IAF’s spectacularly successful engagements. The 100:1 kill-to-loss ratio was better than that in 1967 (30:1) and 1973 (50:1).22 Yet the IAF’s ability to influence operations on the ground was limited. In the west and center its bombing and strafing sorties were fundamentally irrelevant owing to the nature of the terrain and the nature of the enemy. In the east it did somewhat better, preventing Assad from sending in another division to reinforce troops in the Beqa. Even there, however, the closed terrain apparently prevented the IAF from offering close support, its one attempt to do so ending in disaster on June 10 as its aircraft hit an Israeli armored battalion and thoroughly demolished it. The IAF was also unable to prevent the Syrians in this sector from successfully withdrawing their forces when the time came.
Meanwhile, cooped up as his corps was between the central massif on the left and the foothills of Mount Chermon on the right, Major General Ben Gal displayed little of the tactical finesse that had earned him his spurs on the Golan Heights in 1973. During the first three days he merely crawled forward, apparently so as not to involve the Syrians in an all-out clash. The Syrian antiaircraft defenses having been eliminated on the afternoon of the fourth day (June 9), he was finally given his head by Northern Command—with Sharon listening to the network and breaking in to tell Ben Gal that the Syrian border should on no account be crossed .23 Though the IDF’s shortcomings in night-vision equipment had been corrected during the preceding years, evidently corps HQ did not feel it could move in darkness. Instead it allowed the night to be wasted before finally engaging Syrian 1st Division near Lake Karoun on the morning of June 10, destroying some of its tanks and pushing it back.
Next, Ben Gal’s attention was distracted by the above-mentioned bombing of one of his tank battalions by the IAF; later that afternoon a forward battalion drove forward without reconnaissance at Sultan Yakub, ran into an ambush, and had to be extricated at heavy loss. Though Drori did his best to put fire into Ben Gal, the latter complained that his troops were tired (after a mere single day of fighting) and his vehicles short on fuel;24 consequently the second night was largely wasted. Granted a respite, the Syrians were able to withdraw in good order, for which Assad later awarded his commander a medal. When the cease-fire went into effect at noon on Friday, June 11, Ben Gal, like his remaining colleagues to the left, still had not reached the vital Beirut-Damascus highway.
Had the IDF been serious in its attempt to annihilate the Syrians, then it should have used Ben Gal (and the IAF) to fix them in place while Einan descended from the mountains in the west and took them in the rear. Whether because of the need to conceal the plan for a clash with the Syrians from the government’s eyes or because of other reasons, three days plus one night were wasted before Ben Gal even came to grips with his adversary. When he finally did engage the Syrians, on the afternoon of June 9, he merely pushed them backward slowly while Einan, stuck in the mountains, did nothing to help. In part Einan’s slowness is explained by his ponderous armament; whereas in earlier wars the IDF had often operated at night, the tracks leading through the Shouf Mountains were no place to maneuver armored formations in the dark. Following the October War, the IDF order of battle had been designed to take on heavily armed Egyptian and Syrian forces in the open terrain of the Sinai and the Golan Heights. When the test came, the IDF was destined to be thrown away in a country to which it was much less suited.
To look at it in another way, the IDF’s performance in this war—the first major war in which it possessed a clear numerical advantage and undisputed technological superiority—varied according to the opponent at hand. Against Syria’s air force and missiles it performed magnificently, given the lack of civilians and topographic obstacles to clutter up the environment and limit its weapons and weapon systems. Although the incident at Sultan Yakub represented a major failure, against the Syrian ground forces the IDF performed quite well, using its Merkavas and “Arrow” ammunition to destroy the most advanced T-72 tanks, push them steadily back, and capture much equipment. As the experience of “Operation Litani” should have told (as well as that of virtually every other army since 1945), however, their armored columns were almost irrelevant against guerrillas in the west. Although the PLO brigades were quickly scattered, those units were never meant to take on the IDF in a frontal battle; indeed so long as they remained intact they merely presented convenient targets for Israeli artillery and tanks. Once scattered (and their heavy equipment captured) they were if anything more able to harass the Israelis.
If there was one moment when the IDF appeared capable of winning the campaign, it came on June 11, when the first cease-fire went into effect under U.S. pressure. When that cease-fire was broken and hostilities resumed, it should have been clear that all was lost and that the only prospect was for a war of attrition, which the IDF was doomed to lose. In fact that is what happened. As both sides accused the other of violating the cease-fire, Sharon ordered his forces to “crawl” north toward the Beirut-Damascus highway, an objective finally achieved at the cost of dozens of casualties. Recalling their experience in October 1973 when a battalion of paratroopers had tried to capture the city of Suez and had to be extricated at heavy loss, the Israelis were wary of moving into Beirut proper; instead they contented themselves with artillery fire and thousands of tons of bombs, which the IAF rained on the city (officially with the aim of hitting terrorist centers but very often hitting civilians). Come August Beirut was in shambles: r
unning out of food and medicines; electricity cut off; and water supplies so short that the inhabitants used artesian wells. Yet the skirmishes, instead of subsiding, spread into the center of the country where many villages had initially welcomed the Israeli troops by throwing rice at them.
Toward the end of August the Israelis were able to book one last success. With U.S. mediation, talks over evacuating the PLO from Beirut to save what remained of the city got under way. Agreement was finally reached and a small international force assembled to observe the proceedings; under watchful eyes (the UN’s and the IDF’s) some 14,500 persons left Beirut including, besides PLO members and their dependents, about 3,500 Syrian troops permitted to retreat to the Beqa Valley. The Israelis were unable to reap the benefit of their victory, however, since on September 14 their principal Christian ally, Bashir Gemayel, fell victim to a bomb presumably planted by Syrian intelligence.
Then and later, Sharon and other Israelis tried to make out as if Bashir’s death—just elected president, he was due to take office in nine days when the assassination occurred—constituted the turning point in “Operation Peace for Galilee.”25 In fact his death was just one of countless incidents during which the Israelis, the Syrians, and the myriad Lebanese militias clashed and during which the IDF took a continuous trickle of casualties to no apparent gain. Whatever the IDF did, at every twist it found another Lebanese preparing to take another potshot. Despite the enormous booty the Israelis had captured,26 the Lebanese would not run out of weapons, given that the country was saturated with them and that the Syrians were always ready with replacements. As one bitter joke had it, now that the IDF had overrun the place from where the Katyusha rockets were fired, it ought to go ahead and capture the place where they were made (presumably in the Ural Mountains). Israel’s situation did not improve one iota after it decided to occupy western Beirut, a move carried out on September 15 and one that led directly to the greatest tragedy of the war.
Even before June 1982 the IDF’s intelligence service had assessed the Phalange’s real military capabilities as weak.27 To avoid a situation in which they would have to come to the Phalange’s aid (with its main forces concentrated north of Beirut, this would have extended lines even farther) the Israelis asked their ally to refrain from clashing with the Syrians. Now it was decided to use the Phalange to screen the refugee camps for PLO suspects, a mission more suited to the Phalangists with their supposedly thorough knowledge of the country and language.28 After coordinating with Drori and Yaron (the commander on the spot) Phalangists moved into the Sabra and Shatilla camps—in reality, dense areas of concrete houses, some several stories tall, and a mass of narrow, winding alleys connected by underground shelters and surrounded by a wall. Once inside they started a massacre. It lasted from the evening of September 16 to the morning of September 18, killing several hundred unarmed Palestinian civilians including many women and children. The IDF stood guard at the gates and averted its eyes even though unofficial reports of the horrific events trickled in during the first evening. Some troops even aided the Christians, providing earth-moving equipment and firing illumination rounds into the sky.
When the Israeli invasion started, 93.3 percent of Israelis regarded it as either definitely or reservedly justified.29 Within a month, however, the mood began to shift, and support was down to 66 percent.30 Surprisingly, in a country where grassroots movements had always been rare the change started below and gradually found an echo in the Knesset. Traditionally Israel had grown accustomed to fighting much stronger or, at any rate, larger enemies; now the fact that Israel’s PLO opponents were too weak to do more than harass, the northern Galilee region began to act against the government. “Operation Peace for Galilee” was denounced as an instrumental milchemet brera (war of choice), the implication being that it went against the entire tradition of Israel’s defense and was almost criminal by nature. Already by the end of August Prime Minister Begin felt sufficiently pressed to defend himself in an address to the Command and Staff College. In one of the strangest performances of his demagogic career, he turned the concept of en brera on its head. He argued that most of Israel’s previous wars had also been wars of choice; the more “choice” was involved, the fewer the casualties. In this way he made them look less like episodes in a prolonged, desperate struggle for survival and more like aggressive acts intended to achieve this or that political objective.31
When facts about the Sabra-Shatilla massacre emerged a political storm broke. On the evening of September 25 hundreds of thousands—the police estimated 400,000, one-ninth of Israel’s Jewish population—demonstrated in a Tel Aviv square. Much against its will, the government was compelled to set up a commission of investigation; this time it was clear that IDF commanders as well as Israel’s political leaders would be accountable. As the commission started deliberating, support for the war continued to drop. It was down to 45 percent in October and 34 percent in December, more and more people beginning to see it as a “morass” (in the words of Shimon Peres) in which the IDF floundered helplessly without end in sight.
Inside the military, too, the mood was changing. When the war opened, an easy victory was expected and cynicism prevailed: “I went to Lebanon a-hunting Arabs, hei-ho hei-ho a-hunting Arabs,” as one popular song had it. However, already during the summer individual soldiers began to vent their frustration. The best-known case was that of Col. Eli Geva, a brigade commander and the son of a 1950s-vintage IDF general. Previously he had been on the fast track to promotion; now, ordered to advance, he refused orders to open fire in his sector of Beirut where he expected numerous civilians to be killed. Several attempts by Sharon and Eytan to make him change his mind having failed, he had to be discharged.32 Meanwhile, inside Israel, groups of reservists joined together in a variety of ad hoc movements, all of which had this in common: Their members questioned the war and insisted they would rather go to prison than participate.33 Eventually the number refusing to serve reached several hundred, of whom about 170 were tried and imprisoned; these numbers were unprecedented in the history of the IDF.
Of those who went to prison the majority was between twenty-six and thirty-two years old, from urban rather than rural areas, and well educated. About one-fifth consisted of officers (who were thus overrepresented in comparison with their number in the army).34 Thousands more probably avoided service by inventing excuses; indeed in one case a Knesset member bribed his way out of serving. Though there is no evidence that the protest movement ever gained sufficient strength to make the government change course, repeated demonstrations and remonstrances certainly left their imprint. Come winter the troops in their dugouts were singing words and melody adapted from a well-known Israeli children’s ditty:Aircraft come down from the clouds
Take us far to Lebanon
We shall fight for Mr. Sharon
And come back, wrapped in shrouds.
Yet another indication of the army’s state of mind was the growing number of psychiatric casualties.35 Born and bred to defend their country against great odds, and enjoying near-unanimous public support in doing so, Israelis were not supposed to suffer mental problems as a result of war. In 1947-1949 there had been cases, known in PALMACH slang as deggim (shortened from degeneratim, degenerates). Some, having been slapped by commanders, pulled themselves together.36 Others, perhaps less fortunate, were treated in the psychiatric wards of several hospitals; their fates are unknown. A few more cases came to light in 1956 and 1967. Given that both campaigns were over almost before they had begun, the numbers were small.
Then in October 1973 the roof fell in. Hundreds—perhaps 700 to 2,300 or even more37—of weeping, screaming, trembling, bed-wetting, and paralyzed soldiers presented themselves. Having neglected to profit from past experience or to study other armies,38 the IDF medical establishment was taken by surprise. Instead of treating the men with a regime of sedation, rest, exercise, and suggestion at collecting points near the front, it committed the classic error of evacuating them to sp
ecial installations in the rear.39 There some of them are said to remain to the present day.
When the time for analysis came the IDF’s psychiatrists attributed the large number of cases to the swift switch from peace to war and the intensity of the combat. However, deficient unit cohesion also played its part: 40 percent of psychiatric casualties studied said their unit had morale problems, as against only 10 percent in a control group.40 By 1982 the medical branch had provided itself with the appropriate doctrine as well as an organization consisting of teams of psychiatrists, who were attached to each division and ready to step in when and where needed. Yet opening the field to the so-called KABANim (ktsinei briut nefesh, mental health officers) was a double-edged sword. To a considerable extent the ability to keep going among the horrors of war is a question of will. Hence troops who know that psychiatric help is available—in other words, if they know that there is an easy way to get out of combat—may become inclined to use it.
In fact that is what happened. Except perhaps for a couple of days in the Beqa Valley, “Operation Peace for Galilee” was scarcely high-intensity combat. Victory was never in doubt, the IDF dominated the sky, and ground troops overran the PLO like a steamroller. Physically speaking, conditions were relatively good, the weather perfect, and creature comforts were carried to the point that mobile banks accompanied the troops to the field to enable them to speculate on the stock exchange. Yet from June to August about six hundred cases of “battle shock”—a misnomer, as many served in second-line units and never saw intense fire—appeared. They formed 18 percent of all wounded, as much as 55 percent in some battalions.41 Later as many again were diagnosed with posttraumatic stress disorder (PTSD);42 this time inexperience could not be blamed.
The Sword And The Olive Page 40