by Uzi Eilam
An Historic Ceremony on the Temple Mount
With his sense for immortalizing history, Gur decided to hold a celebratory review of the entire brigade on the Temple Mount plaza. Battalion flags appeared out of nowhere and the whole brigade — including the wounded who could make it there from the hospital — took part in an impressive inspection near the al-Omar Mosque. I felt the need to conclude the war with a different, more intimate event just for the 71st Battalion.
After the brigade-wide ceremony I assembled the battalion on the southern steps of the Temple Mount plaza, which formed a theatre of sorts. There, I stood before the battalion and, in a few words, summed up what we had accomplished during the war. I told them that a time would come in the future when we would be able to better assess the historical significance of our role in the war. I also reminded the soldiers that “at the end of the last battalion-wide exercise, after the landing and the live-fire exercise, I told you that with a battalion like this, I would be willing to embark upon any mission. This still stands. I am proud to be the commander of this battalion, and I salute you.” There I stood wearing my steel helmet and my spotted uniform, which had seen many battles and much blood, and saluted the battalion. Saluting is rare among Israeli combat troops and even rarer in reserves. Without a word, the entire battalion rose to its feet and saluted. It was a long, moving moment of sharing the unique powerful bond that is experienced only by comrades in arms after a difficult war.
Blowing the Shofar with Rabbi Goren at the Western Wall during the Six Day War
I only began the difficult duty of visiting the bereaved families after the war was over and once the soldiers of the battalion had all been discharged. After inquiries we carried out within the battalion, I was able to tell the members of each family how their loved one had died. Many bereaved parents asked to tour the route of the battalion’s battles, and I promised to fulfill this request. A few weeks later the battalion command and company commanders undertook a tour with the parents and loved ones of those we had lost. The most difficult point along the route came when we reached the houses where five soldiers from the battalion had been killed. They were soldiers of C Company, which had been fighting at the location without their company commander, who had been injured at the beginning of the skirmish, and without a deputy company commander, who had remained in the rear. In both houses the Jordanians had shown fierce resistance. We referred to one of the houses as “the house with the burnt roof,” and the other as “the house of death.” Along with the parents we climbed the external stairs of the “house of death” until we reached the second floor. Pools of congealed blood of the fallen soldiers had remained on the steps, and I still get chills when thinking back on that moment with the parents, as we all stood there silently in sorrow, staring at the blood.
6
Weapons Development — The Technological Edge
First Steps in Branch 2
The transition from war in Jerusalem back to Branch 2 of the Weapons Development Department was abrupt. My branch was responsible for the development of weapons systems for virtually the entire army. The branch’s small staff was like a hand: each individual finger was not strong enough on its own, but together we were an exceptionally powerful fist. The branch’s work focused on shooting mechanisms, gunnery and the armored forces, electronics and the initial development of optronics and night vision. Branch personnel included Major Leon Dostes from the armored forces, who had immigrated to Israel from Greece after a stint in the Greek army. Gunnery was the responsibility of a soft-spoken, blue-eyed captain named Elizur Peled. Our explosives man, Major Alex Alhanani, amassed a massive stock of explosives and explosive devices in the basement of the old Templar building at Sharona. The building housed the entire Weapons Development Department, and I would hate to think what might have happened if one of Alex’s toys had accidentally detonated. Dov Adelbaum-Eden was a civilian IDF employee and an electronics expert who had been educated in the United States. Danny Avivi, responsible for optronics, was a civilian who had immigrated to Israel from the US. His past included a shady episode in which he had contributed to Israeli security in some way and, as a result was unable to return to America. The seventh member of our team was Benny Ron, a creative and energetic first lieutenant who worked on a variety of issues.
On July 26, 1967, Operations Branch Chief Major General Ezer Weizman promoted me to the rank of lieutenant colonel. As a result of the war the minimum period of time necessary for promotion was shortened, and after only eight months as a major I suddenly became a lieutenant colonel. Shortly thereafter I received an official letter, signed by CGS Yitzhak Rabin, approving my secondary appointment as commander of the reserves 71st Battalion, in addition to my appointment as director of Branch 2. My multiple positions helped more than it hurt, as I did not want to part with the battalion and couldn’t just sit in my office in Tel Aviv without taking part in the War of Attrition that followed the Six Day War. My involvement in military operations provided my weapons development work with important insight and depth. In this way, serving as an active battalion commander in the paratroops proved to be an advantage.
The Weapons Development Department’s main trophy from the war was a collection of data and statistics about the damage sustained by tanks on both sides during the war. This information — especially regarding our battles with Soviet-made tanks — was of immense interest to Western armies in general and the US in particular. The Western armies had not had a major confrontation with Soviet weapons systems since the Korean War of 1950–1953, and many found the data we compiled from the Six Day War intriguing. Information on Soviet weapons systems and Soviet military doctrine was also important for West Germany and provided a sturdy foundation for long-term cooperation between the Israeli and West German defense establishments.
Mr. Bölkow and Dr. Held
One of the assets we accumulated after the Six Day War was a special relationship between the Weapons Development Department and Messerschmitt-Bölkow-Blohm (MBB), a German aerospace company owned by Ludwig Bölkow. MBB was a private company, a remnant of the aeronautics industry established by Germany during Word War II. One evening, just a few days after the end of the war, Colonel Yitzhak Yaakov asked me to take two visitors on a tour in the Sinai Peninsula. It was a Saturday morning, and I picked the guests up at the Tel Aviv Dan Hotel in my Susita, the Israeli fiberglass-bodied car driven by lieutenant colonels in the IDF in those days. I was unaware of the important status of Mr. Bölkow, the senior of the two men, and of the unique character of Dr. Held, the director of Bölkow’s research laboratory. The two men had had flown to Israel in Bölkow’s private plane, and there I was picking him up in my tiny, noisy car. I drove straight down to the Sinai, with the two visitors suffering from the lack of any reasonable leg-room in the cramped back seat. First, we drove along the northern road in the Sinai and then moved over to the central road. A raging sandstorm limited our visibility to dozens of meters, and it was hard to keep the car from sinking in the hills of sand that formed in the middle of the road.
We finally reached an area containing dozens of Soviet tanks and armored vehicles that had been disabled by Israeli tanks and the Israeli Air Force. Each time the two guests got out of the car and inspected the bombed-out vehicles like two children in a toy store. They examined the damage that our tanks had inflicted on the Egyptian tanks, and were excited to find Russian RPG anti-tank grenades lying on the ground beside the bombed-out convoys. It took all my persuasive capacity to prevent Dr. Held from blowing himself up with a warhead with a fuse that was still active. Late that night, after a long day in the field, I brought them back to their hotel.
Without a doubt, this day was the beginning of a marvelous cooperative endeavor with Bölkow’s company in general and Dr. Held’s development laboratorities in particular. We set up a testing area near a military base located south of Netanya to which we dragged a few bombed-out Russian tanks. Dr. Held was then i
n the early stages of an effort to develop anti-tank missile warheads, and the opportunity to carry out tests in Israel was an invaluable gift. Held was a long-armed, long-legged man with glasses who spoke English well (albeit with a heavy German accent), and insisted on working from early in the morning to late in the evening. Put simply, he liked his work. It was chilling for me to think that, during World War II, many other well educated and gifted German professionals were also enthusiastic about developing means of killing and extermination.
For us in Israel it was a perfect opportunity to position ourselves on the technological forefront of developing advanced shaped and capped charges for the warheads of the future. Our relationship with Dr. Held continued, and many of our accomplishments were based on his wisdom.
Methods of Border Defense
For us it was clear that, contrary to the biblical expression, the land would not “have peace for forty years” (Judges 3:8) and that Israel’s borders would continue to play a central role in our lives. Branch 2 was given a free hand to initiate development over the issue of defense, and First Lieutenant Benny Ron quickly proposed the idea of erecting an electronic warning fence.
The principle underlying Ron’s proposed apparatus was based on integrating springs into the barbed wire fence and on micro-switches that were responsive to the movement of the fence. The commander of a military base located on the Mediterranean Coast agreed to have his base serve as a test case for the concept, which proved the apparatus’s warning capability. After the system had been functioning for a few weeks, we discovered a problem that stemmed from geological movements which caused the angles of the fence posts to change over time. This, in turn, resulted in a change in the tension of the barbed wire fence and set off a false alarm. Ron’s innovative, ingenious, and ultimately successful solution was to use “bouncing putty,” a flexible, putty like modeling substance, to stabilize the fence’s sensors.
Before the Six Day War the challenge of securing Israel’s borders had also occupied the Americans. The US wanted to assist Israel in preventing the penetration of our border without recourse to military operations, such as the reprisal operations of the 1950s. The signing of an American–Israeli cooperation agreement provided us with devices for observing the border day and night and the joint discussion of ideas for warning systems.
Generals versus Generals
The major advantage of the Weapons Development Department and Branch 2 (which was linked to all the corps and services of the IDF) in particular was the fact that it fell under the direct supervision of the Operations Branch chief, the source of operational and budgetary authority within the IDF. However, our close relationship with Operations Branch Chief Weizman and his deputy, Rehavam Ze’evi, also came at a cost.
When I returned from my first tour of reserve duty with the battalion in the Jordan Valley, Ze’evi summoned me for a meeting to hear my insights and recommendations. While I was still presenting my detailed account of what I had seen and my thoughts on the possible solution to one problem or another, Ze’evi led me into Ezer Weizman’s office. “I want the Operations Branch chief to hear what you have to say,” he explained, and I repeated my account. Weizman asked me a long list of questions, and finally dropped a bombshell: “Why don’t you drive up to the northern border and carry out a survey on how they handle the problems of border defense?” he suggested. I knew I would have no problem gaining access to OC Elazar, and I returned to the Weapons Development Department with a great sense of pride. However, when I explained my assignment to Colonel Yaakov, who was a seasoned expert when it came to the backroom politics of the IDF, he looked at me with his blue penetrating eyes and slowly gave me the following advice: “Never, ever come between two generals,” he warned, “because in the end, you’re the one who’s likely to get burned.” I never made the trip up to the Northern Command, and I made careful note of this lesson on how to survive in the General Staff.
A New Assault Rifle for the IDF
Another unique member of the team of professionals that worked with Branch 2 was Lieutenant Colonel Uzi Gal, developer of the ingenious Uzi sub-machinegun, which won praise for both him and Israel the world over. Gal was not only a talented and creative; he was also meticulous and pedantic like only a native of Germany could be. He had been assigned to the most appropriate place for inventing and developing light weapons, and it soon became clear that his current dream was to develop a new rifle for the IDF. The term assault rifle was still new to us, but we were aware that many different countries were working on the challenging task of developing a lightweight rifle with a rapid and reliable rate of fire. Together, we embarked upon the adventure of developing a new assault rifle without knowing exactly where it would lead.
Despite his strength as a brilliant technician it was difficult for Gal to find his place on the team. His was the generation of 1948, and he was older than us all. Nonetheless, we were obliged to provide him with a place to work and a team to help him fulfill his dream. The logical framework was Israel Military Industries (IMI): the primary Israeli source of light weapons and light ammunition, and manufacturer of the Uzi submachine gun. On the face of things the endeavor looked promising enough, and IMI accepted the idea and allocated Gal work space and a team. But IMI’s own technical experts in the field of light weaponry, led by gifted technician Israel Blashnikov, were unwilling to play second fiddle. This meant that two development projects were now simultaneously underway within IMI, working in ever-increasing competition with one another. IMI management preferred its own team, but the fact that Lieutenant Colonel Gal had made progress and had emerged as a competitor of Blashnikov was indicative of his skills and extraordinary talent. At this early stage in my defense R&D career, watching the projects unfold taught me an important lesson about the power of personal ambition and the role of politics in all competitive projects.
A few months later, when I was second in command of the Jordan Valley Brigade, I saw OC Central Command Ze’evi carrying a model of Blashnikov’s assault rifle slung over his shoulder. Rafael Eitan, who was serving as the chief paratroop officer at the time, was also armed with the rifle. I was amazed, because at that point, the tests and the competition were still underway. I now understood that the rules of the game had changed, and that it was now personal and political. Ultimately, Gal’s rifle had significant advantages over Blashnikov’s. However, as a result of Eitan’s unwavering support for Blashnikov’s rifle — which was known as the “Galil” — Operations Branch Chief David Elazar decided in its favor.
The Galil was actually a Kalashnikov adapted to fire 5.56 caliber bullets. Although it won the competition, much time passed before it was put into use within the IDF. During the Yom Kippur War soldiers had no assault rifle whatsoever — neither Israeli-made nor the American-made M-16. At the end of the war a number of Israeli units began using Kalashnikov rifles captured during the fighting.
As an infantryman, light weapons development was a personal priority. I have never forgotten something said to me during the first ceasefire of the Yom Kippur War by Uzi Eilat, commander of my battalion’s B Company during the Six Day War. Eilat, who by 1973 was serving as the battalion’s deputy commander, was back for the funeral of his brother, who had been killed in the war. When he stopped in to see me at the R&D Unit on his way back down to the Sinai Peninsula, he hit me with the following stinging criticism: “You took care to develop air weaponry and naval weaponry,” he said, “but you left us — you left the infantry — with no advanced weapons whatsoever.” During all my years in the field of defense research and development, these are words I have been unable to forget, even if I had wanted to.
An Emergency Team
During the summer of 1968 I was summoned to meet with Operations Branch Chief Weizman. “We have to deal with the problems that have arisen along the Suez Canal after this week’s heavy shelling and the casualties we’ve sustained,” he told me. “We decided to establish an e
mergency team to examine the issue and to propose new concepts for defenses and deployment. Brigadier General Avraham Adan (Bren) of the Armored Corps has been selected to head the team, and you will be a member representing the infantry, as well as the issue of technology and weaponry. You’ve been assigned a Dakota airplane and two helicopters, and you will have access to anything else you need. The issue is a high priority, and you’re going down to the Sinai on Sunday.”
We were familiar with the situation along the Canal from our first tour of reserve duty, and we knew the extent of our soldiers’ exposure to shelling along the Canal. The government’s policy, which was spelled out clearly by Prime Minister Golda Meir in her typically decisive, non-compromising manner, was “not to move even one inch from the water line.” Although ditches had been dug in the ramparts above the banks of the canal, the high number of casualties caused by the most recent exchanges of fire proved that the protection they provided was insufficient. On the Sunday we were flown to the Sinai in the Air Force Dakota. Adan’s team included communications expert Lieutenant Colonel Shlomo Inbar, an intelligence expert who was one of the most senior lieutenant colonels in the corps, Lieutenant Colonel Uri Ga’ash, who was later appointed as commander of the Armored Corps, and, as bureau chief, Major Yaakov Lapidot, who would later serve as OC Home Front Command.
Adan was congenial and soft spoken. These qualities, in addition to his short stature and the blonde lock of hair that hung across his forehead, were misleading, as the man himself was decisive and determined. He was a good choice to lead the project. We immediately began a series of tours along the Canal to learn the terrain and prepare ourselves for the task of generating a new defensive concept. The instructions of CGS prescribed an Israeli presence right up to the water line within a string of forts, and the close proximity to the Egyptian enemy dictated massive defenses for the soldiers. At the same time we needed to provide for safe observation and firing capabilities from the high rampart running the length of the Canal. These requirements resulted in the idea of a fort resembling a well-protected hedgehog with a protrusion at the front for observation and firing capability. We worked night and day, using architects, engineers, and contractors who won tenders for the jobs, and started their work along the canal building what came to be known as the Bar-Lev Line.