by Uzi Eilam
During one of the manhunts I was accompanied by OC Ze’evi and his deputy chief Yona Efrat. “Why don’t you move ahead a bit?” they nudged. “That way you can get closer to the forward team and the trackers.”
My response was clear and decisive and issued with the authority of a commander in the field: “I am exactly where I need to be,” I told them, “and you’re not to move even an inch ahead of me.” This time, I was pleased to see, my commanders were more disciplined.
During the manhunts we learned an interesting lesson about the work of the trackers. During most of a manhunt it was the trackers who led us on the search for the trail. However, at a certain point they would slow down and allow the Haruv Battalion’s forward team to move ahead of them. This was a sign that we were getting close to the infiltrators‘ hiding place. The instincts of our Bedouin trackers during manhunts were almost never wrong, and this enabled us to cautiously prepare for their final and decisive stages.
King of the Valley
After the drama of the manhunt during which Brigade Commander Levi was wounded and I was appointed brigade commander, there was no time to celebrate my appointment. It took a number of weeks for my deputy-designate Ofer Ben-David to tie up all the loose ends as military governor of Hebron and to join me in the Valley. For me, the move from deputy commander to commander felt natural. Nonetheless, I was still struck by the heavy burden of overall responsibility and the sense of isolation that came with the job. Infiltrations continued, forts were fired upon, and our ambushes continued to result in firefights with penetrating infiltrator cells. Our operations across the border in the Jordanian section of the Jordan Valley and the Dead Sea also continued, as did the manhunts.
The reserve soldiers passed through the battalion like passengers through a train station; maintaining a relationship with them was both challenging and important. Every month I had to get to know the new men who had just started their reserve duty in the Valley. I found that being able to call them by name and to demonstrate that I knew something about their civilian life resulted in a special connection and generated exceptional motivation.
I will never forget the experience of going down to the brigade’s war room on nights when offensive infiltrator operations were taking place along the border, which was virtually a routine occurrence. The ring of a telephone in the middle of the night, and the sound of the voice on the other end reporting that “the position is under fire” or “the ambush near such and such location has been engaged and is exchanging fire,” was as startling as a snake bite and made my heart skip a beat. After a frantic race down the stairs to the war room, the picture would start to become clearer with the help of a battery of telephones and military radios. The tension was broken with an endless stream of coffee and thick cheese sandwiches. Because of those late night meals I weighed 100 kg (220 lb) by the time I completed my tenure as commander of the Jordan Valley Brigade. I have fond memories of the special operations carried out by Sayeret Matkal or special teams of the Haruv Battalion that involved crossing the Jordanian border. These operations were carried out at night and were meticulously planned down to the smallest detail. They were closely monitored by brigade command from the moment they began until the soldiers’ safe return, and an emergency plan was always ready in case we needed to extract the force.
The never-ending battle of minds between us and the enemy, in which we emphasized the integration of technology in all possible situations, was a central component of Valley Brigade operations. An important principle was recognition of the operational and technical capabilities of our enemy. It was almost impossible to break routine during our operations along the front line — with its permanent positions, its roads on which our vehicles drove each day, and the regular work required for maintaining a coordinated system. It was clear to us that the enemy we faced was a combination of infiltrators...learly irregular force with a propensity to improvise — and the professional, well-trained standing army of the Kingdom of Jordan.
Our insights on the enemy’s modes of operation against our positions meant we often had a better grasp on potential threats than Central Command. This was well illustrated by a visit paid by OC Ze’evi to the Hadas position. Ze’evi arrived for a quick visit to the position, which was located in brigade’s central sector, with his deputy Yonah Efrat the day after a major night-time skirmish that had taken place nearby. I joined Ze’evi and Efrat in their Alouette helicopter, flown by Danny Hamitzer. I attempted to convince the OC to land far from the position and to drive the remaining distance, but to no avail. Instead, the pilot set the helicopter down next to the position in terrain that was visible to the Jordanians across the border.
We entered the position and heard a briefing on the events of the previous night. Ten minutes later, we left the fort and walked toward the helicopter. Just after Hamitzer had taken his seat by the controls, we heard a shell fall nearby, followed by others. We made a dash for the helicopter and scrambled into our seats, but despite Hamitzer’s efforts to start the Alouette, the engine did little more than sputter. In the meantime the Jordanians continued their artillery range-finding and the shells began to fall increasingly closer to our location. It took an effort to convince my commanders and the pilot to abandon the helicopter and take cover while we still had the chance. We ran about 30 meters and took cover in a dip in the ground that was not deep but that nonetheless did the job. The moment we got to cover, out of breath and panting, a shell scored a direct hit on the helicopter, which burst into flames. I restrained myself from telling Ze’evi “I told you so.” More than anything, I was angry with myself for not being sufficiently insistent and for failing to convince him of the logic of landing beyond the range of the Jordanian artillery.
The IDF had two fronts during the War of Attrition, one in Southern Command along the Suez Canal and the other in Central Command along the Jordan River and the Dead Sea. The Jordan Valley front was not only the interest of the Central Command and its OC but of the General Staff as well. CGS Haim Bar-Lev made sure to personally congratulate Valley Brigade commanders by phone after a successful manhunt, and sometimes even dragged the General Staff with him to visit the Jordan Valley.
OC Ze’evi made effective use of the General Staff ’s visits to convince it of his need for additional funds and resources, and I once had a heated discussion with Ze’evi on this very point. It began when I proposed dismantling three positions along the border and giving up the tank company that was permanently stationed in the Valley, as well as the 155 mm gunnery battalion. My recommendation was based on data regarding operational activity and the frequency with which we actually made use of tanks and artillery, and on the fact that our coverage of the sector would remain sufficient even with fewer positions. Ze’evi opposed my recommendation, and justified his position by saying: “What will they say about us at the General Staff?” I was convinced that we could make the cuts, and I told Ze’evi that as the commander in the field I would assume responsibility for them. After many weeks of deliberations and discussions, the OC finally acquiesced and we made the cuts. As I expected they had no negative ramifications.
There was an enormous discrepancy between the realities on Israel’s borders along the Suez Canal in the south and in the Jordan Valley in the center of the country on the one hand, and the relaxed atmosphere on the home front on the other hand. Some people today still look back longingly to a time when wars were fought only on the front lines, leaving civilian populations intact.
Ever since our return from the US, Naomi and I dreamed of owning a detached house. On the eve of the Six Day War construction was finished of our house in Savyon, but we did not move in until after the war. During the post-war period I served in the Jordan Valley. Receiving leave every second weekend was a valuable gift for the family, but it also presented a profound fortnightly culture shock. On Friday afternoons the Savyon country club was full of people, and the sound of tennis balls bouncing off of r
acquets echoed throughout the neighborhood. The pool was full of swimmers of all ages, and the green lawns, so different from the stark dry and grey terrain of the Jordan Valley, were covered with relaxed people sitting in comfortable reclining chairs engaged in pleasant conversation. The sound of background music piped in through speakers concealed within shady trees was a weird counterpoint to the explosions of the Valley and the short spurts of harsh metallic voices on army radios. The tranquil mood seemed foreign and surreal. It forced me to get used to the fact that life was very different outside the pressurized atmosphere of the Jordan Valley. I was both drawn to the peace and quiet of the relaxing background music and at the same time repulsed by it. And yet if it were possible, I would still rather return to things as they were then: when wars were fought along the borders, far from the calm and tranquility of the civilian home-front.
Black September — The Calm after the Storm
Then things suddenly went quiet in the Valley. The reason was the war that King Hussein waged against Yasser Arafat and the PLO in September 1970, which has gone down in history as “Black September”. This name was also later adopted by a radical terrorist wing of the PLO responsible, among other things, for the murder of eleven Israeli athletes at the 1972 Munich Olympics.
A few weeks after the Jordanian offensive against the PLO we noticed a decline in the scope of infiltrator operations in the Valley. We knew nothing about the failed September 1 attempt to assassinate King Hussein, which marked an important turning point in the King’s approach toward the Palestinian groups. Like the rest of the world, we looked on as three passenger planes were hijacked and forced to land in Jordan by members of the Popular Front for the Liberation of Palestine and their passengers taken hostage. The violence continued on September 18, 1970, when hundreds of tanks of the Syrian armored forces crossed the border with Jordan in support of the Palestinians in their war against the Jordanian army, posing a significant threat to the Jordanian regime. From the Jordan Valley we looked on as large IDF forces were moved up to northern Israel at the request of the US, in an effort to deter the Syrians from conquering the whole of Jordan.
The more pressure the Jordanians put on the Palestinian groups, the more it eased our burden in the Valley. The major reason for the decrease in infiltrations was that the Jordanian army no longer assisted the infiltrator groups who were now being pursued by the Jordanians. When springtime arrived and the water-level in the Jordan River subsided, we witnessed surreal scenes of PLO members crossing the Jordan with their hands in the air, surrendering to Israeli forces. I regarded it as my responsibility to issue a special order to all units in the Valley to refrain from opening fire, to take the Palestinians into custody (albeit with great caution), and to transfer them to IDF intelligence for processing. None of these developments caused us to reduce our readiness or our alert level, or to ease up on drills relevant to our war against the infiltrators, which had been developed over the past few years at the cost of the lives of so many soldiers and commanders. But somewhere deep in my heart, I began to ask myself whether there was anything left for me to do in the Valley.
8
From the Weapons Development Department to the R&D Unit
A Call from Bar-Lev to Return to the Weapons Development Department
On Thursday June 10, 1970, exactly three years after the end of the Six Day War, my secretary informed me that CGS Chaim Bar-Lev wanted to speak with me. My curiosity piqued during the few seconds it took her to put the call through, as there had been no infiltration across the border or across Jordan River for weeks now. He got straight to the point in his typically soft and quiet tone and said that I was being recalled by the General Staff to take over the Weapons Development Department of the Operations Branch.
The news was surprising and created a quandary. On the one hand, I had done much to improve the brigade that was the spearhead of the Central Command. On the other hand, I understood that it was appropriate for me now to direct the Weapons Development Department, where I had previously served as a branch director. The new calm on the Jordanian border made this decision easier.
Nonetheless, it was no easy matter to leave the Valley so suddenly and to get used to the idea that the dust, the heat, the manhunts, and the operations were things of the past. As I made the move, I felt the need to understand what had taken place in the Weapons Development Department and why the CGS needed me to take on the job so urgently. I quickly learned that the reason was a crisis in confidence between Weapons Development Department Director Colonel Ben Bar-On and Operations Branch Chief David Elazar.
The IDF’s Assault Rifle
The unbridgeable difference of opinion between Bar-On and Elazar surrounded the decision to prefer the assault rifle developed by Israel Blashnikov of IMI over the rifle developed by Uzi Gal as the standard weapon for IDF infantry. This decision went against the recommendations of the Munitions Corps and the Operations Branch’s Weapons Development Department. With great integrity and courage, Weapons Development Department Director Ben Bar-On fought for his position, which was based on the performance of the two models during the competition. Unfortunately, his struggle was in vain. I was sorry about the command decision and about the injustice suffered by Bar-On, my former commander, who was forced to end his service in the IDF on such an unpleasant note. During his struggle over the issue, Bar-On set a standard of behavior that has guided many officers in research and development administration over the years. His struggle taught us to fight for what you believe in if you are convinced that you are right, and not to fear those higher up in the chain of command.
I had barely managed to remove my dusty red paratrooper boots and clear my nose of the distinctive smell of the vegetation that grew along the winding, slow Jordan River, when I returned to a pile of papers, a steady flow of meetings and discussions, and a world of technology and long-term decision making.
Returning to the General Staff as a former combat brigade commander with a first-hand understanding of the meaning of war boosted both my confidence and my authority in the weapons development arena. There were no 100 days of grace, or even a week for that matter. My experience as director of Branch 2 masked the suddenness with which I took over the department. The list of issues that needed attention forced me to hit the ground running. It was imperative to begin dealing with the major issues as soon as possible, and one of these issues was the fire-control systems for tanks. Major General Israel Tal had already stepped down from command of the Armored Corps to make way for Major General Avraham Adan. Tal established the Tank Program Administration, which would later start work on the development of a new Israeli tank known as the Merkava.
“Out of the North Evil Will Come” (Jeremiah 1:14)
The events of September 1970 in Jordan and Yasser Arafat’s relocation to Lebanon with his associates refocused our attention on Israel’s northern border. Armed with almost two years of experience as deputy commander and commander of the Valley Brigade, I was able to see things from both a technological and operational perspective. Major General Yitzhak Hofi was OC Northern Command, and I recommended that we set up a team of regular army officers and reserve officers with a variety of skills to carry out a survey and to propose a comprehensive defense system for the northern border. Hofi gladly agreed and even assigned liaisons from the Northern Command to assist with coordination and the necessary data. After a few months of intense work we formulated a concept and made a plan based on a technologically advanced warning fence supported by larger and smaller radars at various locations. The plan also called for the integration of day and night optical systems, which were meant to ensure full coverage of the entire border. The team calculated the costs, came up with an estimated time frame for building and installation, and submitted the entire recommendation to the Northern Command for debate and authorization. We were bitterly disappointed when Hofi announced that the plan was rejected because of its expense. Unfortunately, subsequ
ent incidents like the 1974 hostage situation at Ma’alot and a large number of border crossings and terrorist attacks proved that Hofi had been too short-sighted to recognize what we at the Weapons Development Department saw so clearly. After learning lessons the hard and painful way, the Northern Command began investing much larger sums than what our team had initially proposed. The operational concept underlying the team’s recommendations is still applicable today.
Fire Control for Tanks
The issue of fire-control systems for tanks had been under discussion ever since the laser distance-measuring devices of a Dutch company outperformed the best gunners of the Armored Corps. With some justification, Major General Tal was convinced that logical training and discipline of soldiers were the keys to victory. In Armored Corps training programs Tal stressed that tank gunners should learn to hit a target with the first shell during tank-to-tank battles. A competition between man and machine, some of the Armored Corps best-trained gunners versus the Dutch distance measuring-devices, took place at the Munitions Corps’ testing area south of Bat Yam, with Colonel Yitzhak Yaakov and Major General Tal leading the two competing groups. Time after time the laser demonstrated its superiority over the best Armored Corps gunners, and even Tal became a believer in the laser technology. Nonetheless, this technology was still in its early phases of development and had a long way to go before it could be integrated as part of a fire-control system for a modern-day tank.
Where to Develop? — The IDF versus the Defense Ministry
Under the command of Lieutenant Colonel Simcha Maoz, the Weapons Development Department‘s System Analysis Branch completed a comprehensive study of the feasibility fire-control systems in tanks. Although a laser distance measuring device would certainly be an important component of such a system, even back then, in 1971, the system was also meant to use a computer for processing data and transmitting commands to the tank cannon. Simcha Maoz, Dr. Adam Shefi, and the personnel of Branch 2 proved that the fire-control system would significantly improve the chances of hitting a target with the first shell. The Weapons Development Department concluded that the quality of Israel’s tank fleet should be upgraded for both military and financial reasons, and decision makers within the IDF decided to buy fire-control systems for the IDF’s tanks. We knew that the Americans had been working on developing such systems for a number of years, and the professional journals were full of publications regarding the development efforts of the Hughes Corporation and the six system prototypes that were already being tested by the American ground forces. We in the Weapons Development Department recommended that the IDF buy a few models from the Hughes Corporation and begin the process of assessment and preparation for armament.