Oren Michael B. Six Days of War. June 1967 and the Making of the Modern Middle East
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272 SIX DAYS OF WA R
Gideon Rafael responded in kind: “Neither Israel nor the Jewish people con-
cluded a pact with Hitler’s Germany, a pact which encouraged Nazi Germany
to unleash its aggression against the world.” The Soviets proceeded to propose
a resolution condemning Israel and demanding its complete withdrawal from
Arab lands. The Americans countered with an artless draft of their own, calling
for “discussions . . . among the parties concerned” to separate the battling troops,
renounce the use of force and maintain international rights, and to establish “a
stable and durable peace in the Middle East.” Neither of the texts stood a chance
of receiving the Council’s approval; neither was seriously debated.
The question of whether Israel would or would not evacuate remained
moot, however, so long as Egypt refused to accept the cease-fire. Countervailing
pressures were at work on El Kony, the Soviets exhorting him to show flexibil-
ity, while members of the Asia-African bloc—Nigeria, Pakistan, Cyprus, Indo-
nesia—urged him to stand firm. Rumors circulated the hall purporting that
Soviet bombers were en route to the front, that the Egyptian army would soon
regroup and stage a massive counterattack. Even if El Kony adhered to the
cease-fire, the scuttlebutt went, Cairo would repudiate it. Confusion deepened
when the Agence France Presse reported that Nasser had publicly welcomed
the end of hostilities. The Egyptian ambassador rushed to confirm the claim,
only to find it false. Thereafter, he sat removed from the Council chamber, in
the observers’ gallery, waiting for guidance from Nasser.
22
But no one had seen or even heard from Nasser in almost three days. Locked
up in his house, purportedly broken over his army’s defeat, the president had
shunned all contact with the outside world and with military leaders in particu-
lar. Repeatedly, Sadat had sought audiences with him, urging him to fire ‘Amer
and to take direct command of the military, but in vain. Nasser would not
come out. Then, suddenly at midday on June 8, Egypt’s leader emerged. Smil-
ing broadly, he entered Supreme Headquarters and announced that he had just
spoken with Soviet and Algerian leaders, and that 200 new MiG’s were on their
way. Egyptian forces would regroup, he predicted; they would hold the passes
first, then rally for a massive attack. When asked by an old associate, ‘Abd al-
Latif al-Baghdadi, why Egypt had not coordinated its policies with Moscow
and accepted the cease-fire, Nasser snapped: “It doesn’t matter if we accept it
or not. The Jews will keep fighting until they’ve achieved their objectives!”
Nasser next summoned Mahmoud Riad and showed him a telegram he had
received from Moscow urging him to approve a cease-fire. Riad was to reply that
since Soviet intelligence had impelled the Egyptian army to enter Sinai, the USSR
should not now join with Washington in demanding that Egypt cease defending
itself. Egypt, Riad would state, was determined to fight until the Israelis were
driven from its territory—a fight the Russians were expected to back.
Riad was also optimistic, buoyed by reports that Egyptian anti-aircraft had
driven off Israel’s planes, that enemy paratroopers had been decimated in the
Mitla Pass and an armored column halted at Romani. In addition to rejecting
Day Four, June 8 273
Moscow’s request, he personally phoned each of the permanent representa-
tives to the Security Council to remind them that there would be no cease-fire
without total and immediate evacuation. Radio Cairo again assured its listeners
that fierce resistance was continuing on all fronts in Sinai, and the government
had no intention of agreeing to a cease-fire.
The chances for obtaining a resolution appeared to be fading, diminished
by the Egyptians’ delusions of possible victory and their horror of public dis-
grace. In a conversation with Nolte, Secret Service Chief Salah Nasir discounted
claims of Israeli triumphs and expressed confidence that Egypt would return to
the prewar Armistice lines and perhaps even maintain the blockade. But Egypt
could never agree to a cease-fire, he explained: “What would we tell the
people?”
23
Those delusions could not, however, dissemble the image of utter devasta-
tion sprawling along the Suez Canal. An estimated 11,000 soldiers had crossed
the waterway, while another 20,000 were stranded in Sinai and in desperate
need of water. Gen. Fawzi, observing the rout from Isma‘iliya, saw entire tank
companies abandoning their vehicles, their personal weapons, and swimming
across the Canal. Mindless of these men and their plight, ‘Amer ordered Gen.
‘Abd al-Mun‘im Khalil to dynamite the bridges spanning the Canal. “These
were the last words that I heard from him,” Khalil attested, “his last disgraceful
command.”
“It was a horrible sight,” recalled Muhammad Ahmad Khamis, the 6th
Division’s communications officer, who had returned to Sinai amid rumors of
Algerian air cover. “The broken pieces of the army strewn over the sand . . .
burnt out tanks . . . destroyed vehicles . . . charred bodies that looked like statues
. . . Suddenly, I saw senior officers in an army jeep and they asked me to turn
back once again . . . They told me that there were no more [Egyptian] forces
inside [Sinai], that it was all over.” Reconnaissance officer Yahya Sa‘ad Basha
had also escaped the passes only to find himself trapped. “I reached the banks
of the Canal and saw that the bridges had been blown. I sprawled on the ground
and slept a deep sleep from exhaustion and sadness . . . and from the bitterness
I felt at the defeat which we didn’t understand.”
In the Giddi Pass, Gen. al-Ghul found himself virtually alone with his 4th
Division staff, with no artillery and only one tank left. “Our communications
had been completely jammed by the American ship, Liberty,” he later claimed.
Fearing capture, al-Ghul gave his second and final order to retreat.
Witnessing that flight was British war correspondent David Pryce-Jones.
Having reported on the fall of Abu ‘Ageila, he had fallen back with Egyptian
forces to al-Qantara, where ferryboats hauled Egyptian soldiers, fifty at a time,
from Sinai:
Supervising, a doctor was obliging them to sign a register, and one by one
they pressed their thumb on to a purple ink-pad and then on to the floppy
pages of a book. These were conscripts, and illiterate. On the other bank,
274 SIX DAYS OF WA R
under the sun, waited mothers in immobile and resigned lines, assembled
from all over the country to learn the fate of their sons. Behind the serried
mothers ran the barbed-wire fencing of an officers’ enclosure in the barracks
and four or five officers were reclining in striped deck chairs, scrutinizing the
masses through field glasses.
Foreign dispatches, rumors from the front, had finally bypassed Egypt’s mili-
tary censors. Cairo, so recently the scene of jubilation over Israel’s reported
defeat, was now steeped in uneasy silence. Nolte warned of a “clear and present
danger of increased rioting and demonstrations” in the city, leading to “a seri-
ous breakdown in public order.”
24
By the late afternoon, Nasser had met with senior officers, who apprised him
of the irreversible situation in Sinai. The last of these was ‘Amer. The field
marshal was conferring with al-Baghdadi and Kamal Hassan, when their presi-
dent walked in. The former Free Officers rose, crying, and exited the room,
leaving the two leaders alone. A fierce argument ensued, the details of which
were unclear to Mahmud al-Jiyyar, Nasser’s old-time associate, listening out-
side. A short while later, though, Nasser came out, hunched and downcast.
“Imagine, Jiyyar, everything’s over and we’re agreeing to a cease-fire.” ‘Amer
was quick to follow. “Enough, Jiyyar,” he uttered, “we’re capitulating.”
Nasser recalled Riad, and in a choking voice told him that Egypt could no
longer continue the fight; El Kony had to be informed. Riad dreaded making the
call. In his memoirs, he confessed that, “During the past few days I had been
feeding him [El Kony] the exuberant military reports I had received, which he
accepted, discrediting the accounts of the collapse of the army conveyed to him
by his fellow ambassadors as malicious and inaccurate. For several moments we
were silent. In one dismal moment the great illusion we were living crumbled.”
The foreign minister got through to the New York embassy at 9:00
P.M.
El Kony was shaken to the core. “It cannot be!” he cried. The ambassador
had prepared a different speech entirely, again rejecting the cease-fire. Sus-
pecting an Israeli trick, he immediately phoned Nasser’s office and demanded
to speak personally with the president. “You did well by calling, Muhammad,”
Nasser assured him, “but yes, you are to accept the cease-fire.”
Broken, openly weeping, El Kony descended to the Security Council cham-
ber at 9:35
P.M. “I have the honor to convey, upon instructions of my govern-
ment, the decision to accept the call for a cease-fire provided that the other
side ceases firing as well.” Witnessing this, several nonpermanent delegates to
the Council persisted in believing that El Kony’s speech was merely a tactic,
that Nasser would never have given in without some guarantee of Israeli with-
drawal. Such speculation was soon erased, however, by a communiqué issued
by Supreme Headquarters in Cairo. This confirmed Egypt’s adherence to the
cease-fire following battles “unprecedented in their ferocity and intensity against
the combined air forces of Israel, the United States and Great Britain.” The
fighting would continue on other fronts, though, the announcement warned:
Day Four, June 8 275
“100 million Arabs are consumed with avenging hatred for . . . the Chicago and
Texas gangs.”
25
El Kony’s words in the Security Council reverberated loudly in Jerusalem, in
the debate over where to end the war. Along with news of an impending cease-
fire came rumors that the United States would press for a mutual six-mile pull-
back of Israeli and Egyptian troops. Eager to establish the passes as Israel’s new
line of defense, Dayan reversed his earlier opposition to advancing beyond them.
Yoffe now divided his Ugdah into three columns. Two were to proceed south
of the Great Bitter Lake. The third column would strike for Ras al-Sudr on the
Gulf of Suez coast, there to link up with the paratroopers heading north from
Sharm al-Sheikh. Tal was to continue his two-pronged thrust—from Bir Gafgafa
and al-Qantara—toward the Firdan Bridge. The cease-fire, when it came into
effect, would find the IDF firmly astride the Canal.
The war appeared to be coming to an end, a four-day war in which Israel con-
quered all of Sinai and the West Bank. With Syria’s announcement accepting
the cease-fire expected momentarily, the question of whether Israel would or
would not attack the Golan Heights became moot. The Soviets, moreover,
appeared more than ever determined to protect their only Middle East allies—
the Syrians—who as of yet remained unscathed.
Thus, early in the afternoon of June 8, a drawn-looking Ambassador
Chuvakhin had presented the Foreign Ministry with a message. This denounced
Israel’s failure to fulfill the cease-fire resolution and its blatant violation of
international norms of behavior. “If the Government of Israel does not abide
by the decisions of the Security Council,” the Kremlin warned, “the Soviet
Union will review its diplomatic relations with Israel [and] . . . will consider
additional steps necessitated by Israel’s aggressive policies.” Emerging from
the meeting, the Soviet ambassador was quoted warning, “If Israelis become
drunk with success and pursue their aggression further, the future of this little
country will be a very sad one indeed.”
The thrust of the Soviets’ meaning was unmistakable, yet there remained
influential voices in the Israeli leadership, Eshkol’s among them, that continued to
press for a last-minute offensive against Syria. At 7:10 that night, Eshkol recon-
vened the Ministerial Defense Committee in his Tel Aviv office. His plan was to
mobilize support for seizing at least part of the Golan—“like a bulldog breaking
its chain,” he told the settlers in Yiddish—and surmounting Dayan’s opposition.
Rabin opened the session with a report on the continued shelling of north-
ern Galilee. The IDF now had sufficient forces to remove the Syrian guns, he
said, if time permitted before the cease-fire. Next, in an unprecedented move,
representatives of the settlers’ lobby were invited to address the ministers. “If
the State of Israel is incapable of defending us, we’re entitled to know it!” ex-
claimed Ya‘akov Eshkoli of Kibbutz Kfar Giladi. “We should be told outright
that we are not part of this state, not entitled to the protection of the IDF. We
should be told to leave our homes and flee from this nightmare!”
276 SIX DAYS OF WA R
Yigal Allon was quick in seconding Eshkoli. “Assuming that as a result of
our taking the Syrian ridge the USSR severs relations with us—I don’t believe
that will happen—I prefer the Syrian ridge without the Soviets to the Syrians
remaining on that ridge and our retaining our ties with the Soviets.”
His logic held sway with at least one of the ministers formerly opposed to
the operation. “For 4,000 years we have spoken about the sacrifice of Isaac,”
affirmed Zalman Aran. “In those settlements, men, women, and children are
threatened with sacrifice. The situation is insufferable.”
Other ministers, though, remained impervious to these arguments, and op-
posed to provoking Syria. “I’m no coward,” declared Zorach Warhaftig, “but a
break with the USSR means breaking with ten other countries, and perhaps Asian
and African nations as well. It could lead to our expulsion from the UN . . . We
are drunk and not on wine . . . Without a clear breach of the cease-fire by Syria,
we must not be dragged into a new war with them.” Haim Moshe Shapira main-
tained the NRP front, agreeing, “We should wait another day . . . We shouldn’t
drag them [the Syrians] into battle.”
Then, finally, came Dayan’s turn to speak. He reminded the ministers of
the great victory Israel had already accomplished, and of the fierce diplomatic
battle it yet had to fight. “I am willing to be a minimalist—what we attained we
attained and enough. Why, in the throes of this struggle, would we want to
take on yet another state with different international borders? That is a little
too much . . . The Syrians will never reconcile themselves to that, not today
and not in years to come.”
Continuing, Dayan stressed the danger not only of Soviet intervention,
but of the total alienation from France, the supplier of Israel’s jets. “The air
force is not in good shape,” he claimed. “We have not purchased new jets since
1962, and most of our planes were hit on the first day [June 5].” He spoke of
the lack of sufficient forces in the Northern Command, of possible American
opposition to the move. He denied that Syria posed a threat to Israel, but then
turned around and exclaimed, “I fear a joint Syrian-Iraqi air attack. I fear that
all of the Arab states, except perhaps Jordan, will continue fighting.”
The defense minister again denounced government interference in what
he regarded as his exclusive purview (“In military matters, I’m against making
decisions on the basis of majority decisions”) and then landed a bombshell. “I
prefer to move the settlements ten or twenty miles from the Syrian artillery
rather than get caught up in a third front leading to a clash with the Soviets.
Thousands of Arabs were relocated as a result of this war; we can relocate sev-
eral dozen Israelis.”
The suggestion that settlements be uprooted rather than Syrian guns re-
moved, sparked angry reactions from many ministers. “We must never con-
sider moving farms,” Allon shouted; “it’s exactly like conceding parts of Israel.”
Eshkol affirmed, “There could be no greater victory for the Syrians.”
Day Four, June 8 277
And yet, when it came time to make a decision, Eshkol proved less than
decisive. He merely proposed that, Dayan, Rabin, and he would approve a Golan
operation when and if they saw fit. “It’d be a pity if the Syrians got away free,”
he added, suggesting that the Golan could be used as a bargaining chip in
future border negotiations. “Of course we don’t want a centimeter of Syrian
territory.”
26
Close to midnight, Dayan called Gen. Elazar with the news of the Cabinet’s
latest decision. Egypt had not implemented the cease-fire, he explained, and
Israel, which had already suffered enough casualties, could not afford another
front. The Soviets’ disposition, moreover, remained uncertain. Dado tried as-
suring Dayan that Israeli losses scaling the Heights would not be prohibitive—
“it won’t be that bad”—and that the USSR was more bark than bite. “If we
don’t do something on this border now,” cried the Northern Command chief,
“it will be a curse for generations to come.” Dayan was sympathetic but stern:
“I know you and understand you and what you want, but I also know that you’re
disciplined and won’t do anything that runs contrary to what we have decided.”
Dayan passed the phone to Rabin, who listened as the Northern Com-
mand chief vented his frustration. “What has happened to this country? How
will we ever be able to face ourselves, the people, the settlements? After all the
trouble they [the Syrians] caused, after the shellings and harassment, are those
arrogant bastards going to be left on top of the hills riding on our backs?”
Elazar expressed regret over having put off the operation because of the weather.
“If I’d known that yesterday’s postponement would become cancellation to-
day, I would have attacked even without air cover. It would have cost us dearly,
but the Heights we would have conquered.”
Elazar, who had previously resisted the settlers’ request to evacuate non-
combatants from the border area, now asked Rabin for permission to do just
that, and to allow his troops to stand down. But Rabin would agree only to the
withdrawal of children, and insisted that the Northern Command remain in
full battle formation. He told Elazar not to give up hope, that “something may
still happen,” and for a moment seemed to contradict Dayan. But the defense
minister surprisingly concurred. “Though it was decided not to attack for the
time being,” he intimated to Dado, “the possibility exists that the decision will
yet be changed.”
27
278 SIX DAYS OF WA R
THE WAR: DAY FIVE, JUNE 9
Showdown atop the Golan.
Nasser attempts to resign.
The UN resurgent and the Soviets riled.
Israels constitutional crisis.
I
T WAS JUST AFTER MIDNIGHT when, direct from the Cabinet meeting, Dayan
arrived at the Pit. Over the next three hours, he learned that the Egyptians
had indeed accepted the cease-fire and that Syrian approval was soon to
follow. Suddenly, in a remark that baffled Rabin, Dayan said that there was no
sense in merely capturing Tel ‘Azzaziat—a limited attack might be seen by the
Arabs as a lack of Israeli will—when the Golan was effectively empty. He told
his chief of staff, “If the Syrians sit quietly, I won’t approve any action against
them, but if in spite of all our restraint they continue shelling, I will recom-
mend to the Cabinet that we take the entire Heights.”
Rabin, always in favor of punishing Syria, did not raise any objections. But
neither did he issue new orders to Northern Command. He left the Pit for the
first visit home in four days (“I was asleep before my head touched the pillow”),
unsure of whether the defense minister, having already reversed himself on con-
quering Jerusalem and reaching the Suez Canal, might yet change his mind again.
1
Dayan remained in the Pit, and continued to monitor the situation. Bar-
Lev arrived and tried to persuade him that the Cabinet really favored the at-
tack—Eshkol, too—but could not find the right pretext for launching it. There
were additional intelligence estimates, one alleging that the Soviets had low-
ered their tone, were no longer threatening intervention. At 3:10, Radio Dam-
ascus announced that Syria would respect the cease-fire if Israel did—“the battle
cannot be swift, but will require long and patient preparations”—and at 4:45
A.M., Gen. Gavish phoned from Sinai to say that the Israeli forces were now
digging in on the Canal. The war indeed appeared to be over.
Day Five, June 9 279
That, at least, was the conclusion of IDF intelligence. Major Eli Halahmi, in
charge of researching the Syrian army, had already reconciled himself to what he
termed “the lost opportunity” to punish Damascus, and had requested leave to
visit, Western Wall. But then, just before midnight, he received a fresh batch of
aerial photos from the north. What they showed shocked him. The army camps
around Quneitra, previously thick with armored, artillery, and commando units,
appeared to have been deserted. “Our estimate is that the Syrian disposition on
the Golan Heights is possibly collapsing,” Halahmi reported, adding unconven-
tionally, “It is not clear whether this situation will again present itself.”
“What can we do?” shrugged Aharale Yariv when he read the report.
“There’s going to be a cease-fire.”
Halahmi pressed him: “Sir, we must not let them [the Syrians] get off with-
out a scratch. If they do, they’ll continue to spit at us and to boast that they beat
us and they, alone, scared us into inaction.”
Still skeptical, Yariv nevertheless submitted the report which, at dawn,
reached the hands of Moshe Dayan. So, too, did a cable recently intercepted
from Cairo. “I am certain that Israel is about to concentrate all of its forces
against Syria in order to eliminate the Syrian army,” Nasser warned President
Atassi. “For your own benefit allow me to advise you to accept the cease-fire
immediately and inform U Thant of that fact. This is the only way of saving
the valiant Syrian army. We have lost this battle. God help us in the future.”
If Dayan was leaning toward yet another about-face of policy, the cable,
together with Halahmi’s report, impelled him. He scribbled a note to Eshkol:
1. In my opinion, this cable compels us to take the maximum lines.
2. Last night I had no idea that the leadership of Egypt and Syria would
crumble like this and give up the battle. In any event, we must exploit
this opportunity to the utmost. A great day.
2
David Elazar meanwhile was having what he called “the worst night in my
life.” In a last-ditch effort to persuade Dayan to approve the Golan offensive,
the Northern Command chief had sent one of his reserve officers, Uzi Finerman,
a Rafi party member and personal friend of the defense minister’s, to Tel Aviv.
At 2:00, having heard no response from Finerman, Elazar gave up and went to
bed. Four hours later, the phone rang.
“Can you attack?” Dayan asked.
However dazed, Elazar replied unhesitatingly. “I can—and right now.”
“Then attack.”
Dayan began to explain the reasons for his volte face—Egypt’s adherence to
the cease-fire, the Syrian army’s collapse. But Dado cut him off. “Collapse or
no collapse—I don’t know. Nor does it matter to me. We’re attacking. Thank
you very much. Shalom. Shalom.”
Dayan next asked his aide de camp, Col. Yitzhak Niseihu, to contact Col.
Lior at the prime minister’s office. “I couldn’t believe my ears,” Lior remarked.
280 SIX DAYS OF WA R
“The previous day had been devoted to Dayan’s opposition to conquering the
Syrian Golan . . . The announcement fell like thunder on a clear day.”
Eshkol’s shock was no less total. “That’s despicable. That’s despicable,” he
kept mumbling when informed by Lior. Though he fully favored an operation
to capture the Banias, at least, the prime minister was livid over Dayan’s impu-
dence, his contempt for democratic norms. “Can I cancel the order now? It’s
illogical!” he groaned. “If he thinks he can do whatever he wants, let him do it.”
Lior next called the headquarters of the chief of staff. Though Rabin’s
reaction was not recorded, he immediately ordered a helicopter to take him to
Northern Command. There, landing at 8:00, he rushed to find Dado. “The
Syrian army is nowhere near collapse,” Rabin admonished him. “You must
assume that it will fight obstinately and will fight with all of its strength!”
3
Now with more planes than targets, firing rockets salvaged from captured Egyp-
tian stocks, the air force went to work. Beginning at 9:40
A.M., Israeli jets car-
ried out dozens of sorties and dropped hundreds of tons of bombs on Syrian
positions from Mount Hermon to Tawafiq. Artillery batteries and storehouses
were knocked out, and transport columns driven from the roads. But the bombs
could scarcely scratch the bunkers and trench systems overlooking Israeli terri-
tory and covering every route up the face of the Golan. Elazar nevertheless
redoubled the barrage to provide time to clear paths through the mile-thick
minefields, and to break the Syrians’ morale.
If not broken, Syria’s morale had at least been seriously cracked. Convinced
that the Israelis were tired and intimidated by the shelling of their settlements,
the Syrians were unprepared for the ferocity of the IAF’s bombardment. Col.
Ahmad al-Mir, commander of the central sector, reported 163 enemy sorties in
just over three hours; 52 of his soldiers were killed and 80 wounded. The impact
was psychological as well, as a number of senior officers deserted, to be followed
by many of their troops. Instructed to reinforce the frontline positions, Maj.
Gen. ‘Awad Baha, the operations chief, pointed to the lack of air cover and dis-
missed the order as “suicidal.” A similar response came from the 70th Armored
Brigade stationed outside Quneitra. Its commander, Col. ‘Izzat Jadid, refused to
counterattack, even at night, and instead led his tanks back to Damascus. Though
Syrian radio described the air strikes as an Anglo-American effort “to save the
Israelis from destruction,” there could be no dissembling the damage.
Nevertheless, the bulk of Syrian forces remained in their bunkers, ready to
fight. The greatest concentration was in the central sector, where three bri-
gades and 144 artillery pieces were aimed at the so-called Customs House road—
the straightest axis to Quneitra and thus the most likely to be taken by invaders.
The army was ordered to block that route at all costs, to hunker down and
Day Five, June 9 281
conserve its ammunition. “Avoid opening fire,” Chief of Staff Suweidani told
his commanders. “We have requested United Nations intervention. We are
awaiting a response any moment.”
4
Contrary to Syrian expectations, the Israelis were not planning to take the Cus-
toms House road, at least not in the initial attack. The Hammer plan called for
a swift smashing of the enemy’s frontline defense where the enemy least ex-
pected it—in the north, near Kfar Szold, and south of the Sea of Galilee. But
massive traffic jams caused by forces moving north from the West Bank and
Sinai indefinitely delayed the southern assault. Instead, Israel’s secondary thrust
would be made in the central sector, between the fortresses of Darbashiya and
Jalabina. Elazar expected the opening assault to be bloody, almost prohibi-
tively so. Climbing extremely steep (2,000 feet), rocky terrain, in the daylight—
the original attack was supposed to have been staged at night—the first wave
would be totally exposed to Syrian fire. It would have to move swiftly, reaching
the patrol roads that linked all of Syria’s fortifications and then capturing the
fortifications as well, which were strategically positioned to provide covering
fire for one another. They were girded by mines and barbed wire, and bristling
with concrete bunkers and pillboxes.
“If this is the plan, know that it’s suicide,” Avraham Mendler told Elazar,
when informed of his assignment. The Shermans of his 8th Armored Brigade—
Israel’s only tanks on the front—were worn from the heavy fighting in Sinai
and their crews exhausted. Now they were being asked to crack Syria’s most
formidable defenses, in broad daylight, over almost impassable terrain. Indeed,
no sooner had it moved out at 11:40
A.M. and began scaling the escarpment
than Mendler’s column came under raking fire from dug-in Syrian tanks.
“At first, we weren’t afraid at all,” said Ya‘akov Horesh, member of a tank
crew in the 8th Brigade’s 129th Battalion. “Bulldozers ran in front of us, clear-
ing the wire and mines. But then the sky opened up. The bulldozers were
knocked out . . . half-tracks were blown into the air. Suddenly, we were hit! . .
. I went up to the turret hatch and saw that the tank was ablaze and that I was
burning with it. I heard shots, heard someone on the radio calling for air cover.
I decided it was better to be shot than burned to death, and I threw myself from
the turret . . . They [Israeli soldiers] picked me up and put me on the deck of
another tank. I was still on fire.”
Five of the eight bulldozers were struck immediately, their burning hulls
battered aside by other, still-advancing vehicles. The Shermans, their maneu-
verability sharply reduced by the terrain, moved slowly toward the fortified
village of Sir al-Dib, aiming for the major fortress at Qala‘. Casualties mounted,
including the battalion commander, thirty-nine-year-old Arye Biro. Recon-
naissance officer Maj. Rafael Mokady, in civilian life a university lecturer, as-
sumed Biro’s place, only to be killed ten minutes later. Then, with the situation
already critical, part of the attacking force lost its way and emerged opposite
another redoubt, Za‘ura, manned by reservists from Syria’s 244th Battalion. “If
we could hold Za‘ura,” Mendler later testified, “I believed that we could turn