Six Days

by Jeremy Bowen

  Suez canal, 1200

  Tanks from Tal’s division reached the Suez canal. The Egyptians had tried to delay them, their tanks opening fire from behind sand dunes with just their guns and turrets showing. Other tanks were deployed further away from the roads to ambush the Israelis if they tried to outflank them. But Colonel Shmuel Gonen, the commander of the lead brigade, saw what was happening. He sent two companies of tanks through the dunes while a battalion moved ahead in a column down the road. Once again the Israelis used their skills in long-range gunnery to blast the Egyptians. By the end of the morning the Israelis had lost five tanks and knocked out fifty. Among Israel’s dead was Major Shamai Kaplan, the accordion-playing tank commander who back in 1964 had made his men sing to warm themselves up when they were waiting to attack the Syrians.

  Sinai coast, 1230

  It was another beautiful early summer morning. Visibility was perfect. Around twenty miles from the coast in international waters was an American naval spy ship called the USS Liberty. The officers on the bridge could just see the minaret on the mosque at Al-Arish on the horizon. As usual reveille had sounded at 6:00 a.m., but for an hour before that, since just after dawn, Israeli planes had been flying close to the Liberty, taking a strong interest in a ship that was dangerously close to the Sinai war zone. James Ennes was officer of the deck for the morning watch, from eight to midday, responsible for the ship’s log. He reckoned the Israelis flew directly over the ship six to eight times, once at less than 200 feet. Before he went off watch he noted the Israeli overflights and, according to US Navy regulations, signed and dated the entry.

  The Liberty was loosely attached to the American Sixth Fleet, the most formidable naval force in the Mediterranean. But its two aircraft carriers with all their support ships were 500 miles away, well away from the action. The Liberty was on her own, and unarmed, except for four .50 calibre Browning machine guns, but its crew was not worried. Lieutenant Lloyd Painter, a young American naval officer, felt reassured by the presence of the Israelis. He looked out over one of the upper decks. It was a peaceful scene. Off-duty officers were sunbathing. He felt ‘good and warm inside that we were safe, that we weren’t strangers here’. On 8 June the Liberty was steaming in what the US Navy called a ‘modified condition of readiness three’. That meant its normal watch was on deck, plus one man standing at the forward gun mounts. Men from the bridge would run to man the two after guns if, in an emergency, general quarters sounded.

  The Liberty had started life as a freighter in the Second World War. But by 1967 it had been comprehensively rebuilt into one of the most advanced spy ships in the world, one of about a dozen that the United States always had cruising the oceans. It listened in to radio transmissions. According to one of its crewmen, ‘If it was broadcast on a radio wave, we could receive it, on any frequency.’ The Liberty was a highly distinctive, unusual-looking ship, festooned with aerials and an ultra-modern microwave dish.

  The Liberty had been redeployed from a patrol along the West African coast when the crisis in the Middle East blew up. On 8 June it had just arrived on its new station, sailing slowly up and down the coast of Sinai, shuttling roughly between Al-Arish and Port Said. The Liberty took its orders from the US Navy, but the technicians it carried were under the control of the National Security Agency. The NSA is one of the most secret parts of the US government. It eavesdrops on the world’s communications. In the 1960s it was a vital part of the Cold War with the USSR and the hot war in Vietnam. On 8 June 294 men were on board the Liberty. Around two-thirds of them had very little to do with sailing the ship. They were technical experts – linguists, radio engineers, cryptographers. While they were on duty they stayed below in front of a great array of scopes, scanners and monitors. There were also three civilians from the NSA, including an Arabic linguist, and three US Marines who were specialists in Arabic and Russian.

  Just after 1300 the Liberty’s captain, William McGonagle, sounded general quarters. It was a drill. The crew ran to take up the posts they would man in an emergency. They were patrolling at five knots, which was the best speed for their technical gear to suck intelligence out of the radio waves. But Captain McGonagle did not want them to have the idea that this was some sort of leisurely Mediterranean cruise. After all, they were only twenty miles from a war zone. Once the exercise was over, though, off-duty men went back to sunbathing. The crew of the Liberty prided themselves on the fact that they were different. They enjoyed their posting and were proud of their ship. There was a cook-out on the ship’s fan-tail every Sunday. For young conscripts who had friends who were foot soldiers in Vietnam it seemed a pretty good way of doing their national duty.

  That morning, orders were sent from Washington for the Liberty to move further away from the coast. But there was an error in transmission. Before they arrived, the Liberty was destroyed by Israel’s air force and navy. Between 1400 and 1430 around two-thirds of the ship’s company became casualties. Thirty-four men were killed and 172 wounded. How it happened is well documented. Why it happened is still a matter of bitter dispute.

  At 1350 a flight of two Israeli Mirages, codenamed Kursa, was contacted by Colonel Shmuel Kislev, the chief air controller at the military headquarters in Tel Aviv. (Their exchanges were taped.) He told Yigal, one of the pilots, that he had a ship at ‘location 26. Take Kursa over there. If it’s a warship, blast it.’ In the Israeli air control room there were some doubts about their target’s identity. Three minutes later another officer, a weapons controller, can be heard asking, ‘What is it? An American?’ In later testimony the officer said that he was convinced the Egyptians would not send a solitary warship so close to a coastline now held by Israel. According to Aaron Bregman, an Israeli scholar who has listened to the tapes, Colonel Kislev is then heard picking up a phone and calling an unnamed superior officer. Referring to the suggestion that the ship could be American, he asks, ‘What do you say?’ The answer is, ‘I don’t say.’ The tone, according to Bregman, is ‘I don’t want to know’. Another three minutes later, at 1356, the leader of the two Mirages asks permission to attack. Colonel Kislev does not order them to establish its identity. All he says, impatiently, is, ‘I have already said: if this is a warship … to attack.’

  Lookouts on the Liberty saw the Mirages. They were not worried, assuming it was another reconnaissance flight. Using radar, the ship’s position was fixed as 25.5 nautical miles away from the minaret at Al-Arish, which was to the south-east. It was in international waters. Commander McGonagle believed they were safe. The Liberty’s name and identification numbers were clearly marked, a stars and stripes flag measuring five feet by eight was flying and it had been identified by the earlier overflights. Lloyd Painter, who had been so reassured earlier by the Israeli presence, was looking at them through a porthole when he realised that they had levelled off and were approaching the ship as if they were attacking. Red flashes were coming from under their wings. The shells from the Mirages’ 30 mm cannon exploded into the ship. Painter’s porthole was blown out into his chest. The man looking through the next one along was hit in the face. Most of the men on the bridge were knocked off their feet. The helmsman was badly wounded. Quartermaster third class Troy Brown immediately took the wheel. Later, he was killed. Commander McGonagle grabbed the engine room telegraph and rang up all ahead flank, the order for maximum speed.

  The Liberty’s radio operators were trying to get an SOS to the Sixth Fleet. They had two big problems. The Israelis were jamming them, and the ship’s complex system of antennas was being blasted away. James Halman, one of the radio operators, kept repeating the message, using the Liberty’s call sign. ‘Any station, this is Rockstar, we are under attack by unidentified jet aircraft and require assistance.’

  At 1359 the leader of the Kursa flight reported back to Tel Aviv: ‘We have hit her very hard. Black smoke is coming out. Oil is spilling out of her into the water. Splendid … extraordinary. She is burning. She is burning.’ Two minutes later: ‘OK, I have fini
shed. I have just finished my ammunition. The ship is burning … very big and black smoke.’

  The Liberty was still trying to send an SOS. Lieutenant Commander Dave Lewis, in charge of the NSA operation on board, believes the Israelis targeted their communications gear. ‘The only reason we got an SOS out was that my crazy troops were climbing the deck stringing long wires while they were being shot at.’ USS Saratoga, one of the Sixth Fleet’s two aircraft carriers, acknowledged their distress calls at 1409. The Liberty’s radio operators repeated their message: ‘Schematic, this is Rockstar. We are still under attack by unidentified jet aircraft and require immediate assistance.’ Saratoga wanted an authentication code that had been destroyed. ‘Listen to the goddamn rockets, you son of a bitch!’ the radio operator yelled back.

  In Tel Aviv the air controller Kislev ordered another flight, this time of two Super Mysteres to take up the attack. ‘You can sink her,’ he told them. They raked the decks and the antennas and dropped canisters of napalm, which exploded throwing out burning jelly and clouds of thick black smoke. Fuel tanks on the ship’s whaler exploded. At 1414 one of the pilots asks about the ship’s nationality. They had read the ship’s markings which were marked in Western numbers, not Arabic ones. Kislev says twice that it is ‘probably American’. Twelve minutes later, at 1426, three Israeli motor torpedo boats arrived. The Liberty is identified again as Egyptian and they attack it with five torpedoes. From the bridge Captain McGonagle screamed a warning into the public address system. Gary Brummett was below decks. ‘When we received word that a torpedo was going to hit us starboard side and stand by to abandon ship, I personally knew I would never see my friends in Louisiana again or drink another cold beer. At twenty, those are important events. I blew my life vest up … and awaited what I thought would be somewhat like a crawfish boil and [we] were the crawfish.’ Only one torpedo hit, which probably saved the ship. The force of the explosion picked the Liberty out of the water. When it came down it was listing to starboard with a huge hole in its side. The five-feet-by-eight stars and stripes that the Liberty was flying was shredded with most of the ship. It was replaced five minutes before the torpedo attack by an even bigger one, seven feet by thirteen.

  Washington DC, 0950 (1750 Egypt, 1650 Israel)

  Walt Rostow dictated a message for President Johnson, warning there was a ‘flash report … a US elint [electronics intelligence] ship, the LIBERTY, has been torpedoed in the Mediterranean … we have no knowledge of the submarine or surface vessel which committed this act.’ An hour or so later the US defence attaché in Tel Aviv told them Israel had carried out the attack. Drily, the last line of Rostow’s note to Johnson said that the ‘Tel Aviv message appears to be apology for mistaken action’.

  After the initial SOS, radio operators in the Sixth Fleet could not get through to the Liberty. The fleet prepared to take action. Pilots were mustered in their briefing room. The assumption was that the ship was being attacked by Soviet forces. The pilots were told the Liberty was right on the edge of the Egyptian twelve-mile limit. Rules of engagement were issued. They ordered them to ‘use force including destruction as necessary to control the situation. Do not use more force than required. Do not pursue any unit toward land for reprisal purposes … counter-attack is to protect Liberty only.’

  Washington DC, 1013

  The commander of the Sixth Fleet reported to Washington that he was launching four armed A-4 bombers from the USS America and four A-1s with fighter cover from USS Saratoga. Two destroyers were also ordered to get to the Liberty at full speed. USS America’s ready aircraft, A-4 bombers, were armed with nuclear weapons. They were recalled soon after they were launched. The fleet commander asked permission to send other, conventionally armed aircraft. Permission was refused. Secretary of Defense Robert McNamara came on the line from Washington to give the order.

  Cairo, 1845; Washington DC, 1045

  In the US Embassy in Cairo it was about the worst news they could get. They assumed the Liberty had been feeding information to the Israelis. After the allegations of collusion with Israel on air strikes, Ambassador Nolte already felt that every American in town was in danger from the Cairo mob. Tersely, he cabled: ‘We had better get out our story on the torpedoing of USS Liberty fast and it had better be good.’ The Egyptians seized on the attack as evidence that they had been right all along. On Cairo Radio Ahmed Said accepted Israel’s story that the destruction of the Liberty had been an accident, because it proved one thing: ‘Arabs … we are fighting against the USA.’

  Washington DC, 1645

  In the Situation Room at the White House a soldier called Baker scrawled the latest information on the Liberty from the National Military Command Center on a telephone pad. ‘10 killed, about 100 wounded – (1 doctor aboard, just hasn’t been able to complete rounds on all) 15–25 wounded seriously (so far) Liberty should rendevouz [sic] with elements 6th Fleet around midnight EDT.’

  The next morning the NSC Special Committee met in angry mood to discuss what happened to the Liberty. Clark Clifford, a Washington lawyer who had been a presidential adviser since the 1940s, was concerned that the US was not being tough enough on Israel. It was an ‘egregious’ attack. It was, he told them, ‘inconceivable that it was an accident’. There were three strafing passes and three torpedo boats in attendance. The Israelis responsible should be punished. In the sheaf of handwritten notes torn from a legal pad that records the meeting, ‘President subscribed 100%’ is noted in the margin. Ambassador Lucius Battle thought the attack ‘incomprehensible’. Secretary of State Rusk said the US should ‘do what is normal’. Israel needed to pay reparations, punish those responsible and ensure there was no repetition of the attack. Dean Rusk always believed the Liberty had been attacked in the full knowledge that it was an American ship. Before he died, he said that ‘the sustained attack to disable and sink Liberty precluded an assault by accident or by some trigger-happy local commander … I didn’t believe them then, and I don’t believe them to this day. The attack was outrageous.’

  Letters of apology from the Israeli diplomats started to arrive for the president. Ambassador Avraham Harman expressed ‘heartfelt sorrow at the tragic accident for which my countrymen were responsible … I write to you in desolation.’ Abba Eban was ‘deeply mortified and grieved by the tragic accident’. Secretary of State Rusk replied tersely that the attack was ‘quite literally incomprehensible, an act of military recklessness reflecting wanton disregard for human life’. Israel’s first response to Rusk’s note was considered by the Americans to be so aggressive that they told the Israelis that they wanted it withdrawn and rewritten ‘in a more moderate vein’. It contained statements ‘they might find it hard to live with if the text some day became public’. It is still secret.

  * * *

  Israel accepted full responsibility for what had happened, insisting that regrettable but honest mistakes, made in the heat of battle, came together to cause the incident. It started, they said, with a series of what turned out to be false reports from the navy and air force that Israeli positions in Al-Arish were being shelled from the sea. Then, somehow they lost track of the Liberty after it had been positively identified as American earlier in the day. Mistakenly, they thought the ship was travelling at thirty knots, not five knots, leading to the wrong conclusion that it was an enemy warship. It was then mistaken for the Egyptian transport Quseir.

  A fierce controversy about the Liberty still goes on, fuelled by the fact that many documents about what happened have still not been declassified. Some of Israel’s supporters have dismissed claims made by the survivors of the attack as sad delusions of traumatised ex-servicemen. Clark Clifford, who was one of Israel’s staunchest supporters in US administrations from the 1940s to the 1970s, wrote a report on the incident for Johnson that was kept secret for thirty-four years. On the face of it, it upheld the Israeli position that there had been a series of terrible of mistakes, though Clark put it more strongly, condemning ‘gross and inexcusable failu
res … the unprovoked attack on the Liberty constitutes a flagrant act of gross negligence for which the Israeli government should be completely responsible, and the Israeli military personnel involved should be punished.’ But Clark’s analysis of Israel’s explanations raises more questions than it answers. He did not have any evidence that top people in the Israeli government knew an American ship was being attacked. But, he implies, that did not mean that they did not know. ‘To disprove such a theory would necessitate a degree of access to Israeli personnel and information which in all likelihood can never be achieved.’ This was more than a Washington lawyer choosing his words carefully. In his memoirs he wrote that it was ‘unlikely that the full truth will ever come out. Having been for so long a staunch supporter of Israel, I was particularly troubled by this incident; I could not bring myself to believe that such an action could have been authorized by Levi Eshkol. Yet somewhere inside the Israeli government, somewhere along the chain of command, something had gone terribly wrong – and then had been covered up. I never felt the Israelis made adequate restitution or explanation for their actions.’

  In July 1967, three days after Clark’s report was delivered to Johnson, an inquiry by an Israeli military judge, Colonel Yeshayahu Yerushalami decided there were no grounds for disciplinary action against the Israeli officers connected with the attack on the Liberty. His report reads like a legal closing of ranks, the product of a system going through the motions to satisfy its obligations to the United States rather than one driven by a desire to get to the bottom of what really happened. Yerushalami’s report had a generous, even elastic interpretation of ‘reasonable’ behaviour from a soldier in wartime. For example, the divisional commander who directed the torpedo attack from one of the boats, told the judge that he had not received an order at 1420 stating, ‘Do not attack. It is possible that the aircraft have not identified correctly.’ Yerushalami observed that the order was entered into the log book of the divisional commander’s vessel and into the war diary of the Naval Operations Branch. His deputy commander testified that he received the order and passed it to him. Yet the torpedo attack went ahead.