XV
(1915–1981)
“MOSHE DAYAN was born to the battlefield,” says his biographer, Robert Slater; “He found war exciting, he could not get enough of it.”1 This rings true. After “starring” in the Israeli war of independence (1948–49) and presiding over two more Arab-Israeli wars in 1956 and 1967,he went to see the war in Vietnam as a newspaper correspondent, and slogged into the battle areas with American GIs. As defense minister in 1973,he was surprised by the Yom Kippur War, but the army he had built won it handily.2 Not only was he a fine soldier, he was remarkably literate, and thus his autobiography is full of lessons (by example) in the art of leadership.
Dayan was born in 1915 of Russian-Jewish settlers at Deganiah, on the first kibbutz (collective farm) in Palestine. While Britain ruled Palestine (1919–48), he joined the Haganah (covert Jewish army), formed for defense against Arab attacks. During the Arab revolt of 1936,Orde Wingate trained Haganah in offense—guerrilla warfare.3 This Scots-Presbyterian British officer believed that Zionism was a fulfillment of biblical prophecies; he is considered one of the founders of the Israeli Army. Dayan said Wingate taught him both tactics and a “code of life.”4
When the Second World War began (1939), the Haganah was outlawed, and Dayan was imprisoned at Acre (Akko), but then released to serve in the British Army. Fighting against the Vichy French in Syria, he lost his left eye (and it was a miracle he was not killed) when a sniper scored a direct hit on his binoculars. He left hospital wearing the eye-patch that became his trademark.
In 1948,Britain ended her rule over Palestine and the UN proved unable to partition Palestine between Jews and Arabs. The Jews founded the state of Israel, setting its borders by war; the Haganah was the core of the new Israeli army. In 1948 Dayan formed the 89th Commando Battalion, which won battles and made him famous. In 1949 he was military governor of Jerusalem, of which he took as much as his forces allowed, but participated in negotiations to divide the city, which brought peace with Jordan.
In 1953 he attended the British staff college at Camberly. On his return, he was appointed chief of staff of the Israeli army. Bucking military tradition, he was perpetually with the troops; he made reprisal for Arab terrorist attacks a policy; and he procured new French tanks to augment the British and American World War II models in service. He constantly repeated his major rule to the troops: “Break through and move, fire and move.”5
Meanwhile Egypt, under Abdul Gamal Nasser, had become Israel’s most aggressive enemy. It was supplied by the USSR with its latest tanks, the heavy ones with 100mm guns (the Israelis had’75’s), and other weapons. In 1956,Nasser nationalized the Suez Canal (owned by an international corporation, dominated by the British and French). He forbade Israeli commerce through the canal, and blockaded the Gulf of Aqaba, Israel’s opening to the Red Sea. The UN proved unable to settle the matter. The French and British, who were preparing to invade the canal zone, agreed to a preemptive strike by the Israelis on Egypt.
Beginning on 29 October 1956,Dayan launched blitzkriegs through Gaza, the Sinai, and toward Aqaba. Moving and firing, the Israelis soon had the half-trained Egyptians abandoning their massive tanks and running off across the desert. The passes of the Sinai were taken with paratroops followed by tanks and infantry; finally Sharm el-Sheikh, overlooking Aqaba Bay, was taken on 5 November. Meanwhile the French and British took the Suez Canal Zone with paratroops and amphibious landings of armor and infantry, supported by the RAF. Under pressure (mainly from the United States), the British and French soon withdrew, and the Israelis relinquished their conquests, but retained access to Aqaba. Dayan resigned from the army and went into politics, while Egypt got stronger (courtesy of the USSR).
In 1967 Dayan was made defense minister, and in response to attacks from Egypt, Syria, and Jordan, launched the Six-Day War. This time the Israelis took the entire Sinai peninsula to the Suez Canal, the Golan Heights overlooking Syria, and—most prized by the Jews—all of Jerusalem.
Unfortunately for his military reputation, Dayan was still defense minister when Egypt, then under Anwar Sadat, launched the “Yom Kippur War” in October 1973. The attack came as a total surprise, and the Israelis, in the first days, sustained heavy casualties—for which Dayan was blamed. His intelligence service had failed him (but the American CIA knew no better).6 Dayan nonetheless came alive and actively “advised” his troops on the fronts, taking risks unusual for a minister. The war had begun on 6 October; by 18 October the Syrians had been driven back and had all their forces guarding Damascus, the Jordanian air force was crippled, and Jerusalem was safe. And in Egypt, Sadat had not only lost, but a massive Israeli armored force was on his side of the canal, threatening Cairo.
Dayan resigned as defense minister in 1974,but was soon back in politics. As foreign minister during 1977–79,he helped push through the Camp David agreements, sponsored by President Jimmy Carter, which brought peace between Egypt and Israel. Unable to agree with his prime minister over how to deal with the Palestinians, he then left the government. He died in 1981.
Moshe Dayan was not one to spout theory. What appears below are notes from his Story of My Life (1976) on what he did as a commander (battalion to army) and chief of staff of the Israeli army. They speak louder than any enumeration of principles of leadership.
1948: Forming the 89th Commando Battalion
When I got back from the Jordan Valley [where he had defeated a Syrian force], I set about raising the “mechanized assault battalion,” . . . which Yitzhak Sadeh asked me to form before I had left for Deganiah. It was given the number 89 and was to be a unit of Sadeh’s armored brigade. This brigade, however . . . never fought as a single formation, and the 89th Battalion, when I was its commander, always operated independently.
Daring and Unorthodoxy
I was happy with this appointment. lt was exactly what I wanted. Yitzhak explained that the battalion was to serve as a special commando unit, rather like such British assault units as the Long Range Desert Patrols . . . in World War Two. Ours, of course, would be smaller in scale, without either their resources or the distances they had to cover, but with the same spirit of daring and unorthodoxy. At first I was told that the battalion would be mounted entirely on jeeps and would be lightly equipped, without support weapons and without armor. Its function would be to penetrate deep into enemy territory and operate behind the lines. Later it was decided to include a support company and give the battalion half-tracks as its principal vehicle.
Men Make the Unit
I confess that though table of organization and weaponry were important and would determine the unit’s fighting capacity, I concerned myself little with these matters. I left them to my deputy, Yohanan Peitz, an experienced combat officer who had served in the Jewish Brigade of the British army in the world war and who was more of an “organization man”. . . . I concentrated on the selection and recruitment of the men.
Morale and Fighting Spirit
Vehicles, weapons, and men reached the base in dribs and drabs. But the most important element was present in full measure—confidence and fighting spirit, the will to get into action and strike at the enemy. This was the very quality I was looking for, and I did everything to encourage it. I truly believed that we could emerge victorious from every battle. There was always some fold in the ground along which we could advance, some rock which afforded cover, and a surprise and judicious military tactic which could give us the advantage over the enemy.7
An American Veteran’s Advice: Speed and Mobility
[Dayan talked in New York with Abraham Baum, who had fought in Europe in World War II in the U.S. 4th Armored Division under Colonel (later General) Creighton Abrams (in Patton’s Third Army) and led small task forces behind enemy lines.]
As the legal army of the . . . State of Israel, we had to wield larger formations. I was glad to hear from Baum’s combat experience as part of a large army that there was still room for, and indeed great value in, a commando unit like the one I had just organized.
Baum’s words well fitted my own ideas. . . . He preached the supreme importance of speed and mobility in battle. According to him, it was best not to undertake preliminary reconnaissance patrols to the projected target of attack, for the information thus received was usually meager, and by tipping off the enemy, the element of surprise was lost. lt was best to go straight to the assault positions, with the reconnaissance unit moving ahead, observing, sensing, feeling out the situation, reporting back, and guiding the main force. Baum’s experience was born of a different kind of war, but several of his points seemed to me to be applicable to us, too. One was the need to maintain continuous movement. Another was to have the commander direct the action from the front line so that he could see what was happening with his own eyes, rather than rely on second-hand reports.8
Personal Reconnaissance, Daring, and Improvision
[Dayan takes his 89th into battle (He had just returned from New York).] At Deir Tarif I found Akiva Sa’ar with his half-track company. He had arrived the previous evening to give support to Uri, and now his men were dug in and holding the western and northern slopes of the hill, while the Arab Legion dominated the eastern slope. Akiva tried to dissuade me from going to the top of the hill to survey the situation, since it was under continuous artillery fire and Jordanian snipers were fast on the trigger when they glimpsed a raised head. I ordered my driver to race to the hilltop and park his jeep behind a pile of boulders which I had spotted. The jeep made a wild zigzag dash up the slope, and between the twists and turns I noticed that Akiva was right behind me, as I had expected.
I looked down and saw several of our disabled vehicles stuck on the side of the hill. But I also saw an abandoned Jordanian armored car lying on its side, with its nearside wheels in a ditch. I could hardly believe so beautiful a sight—a real armored car, with thick plating, apparently serviceable, and equipped with a 2–pounder gun! All we had to do was pull it out, get it over to our lines, and use it. True, the Jordanians were shelling and sniping at anyone attempting to get near the armored car, but with ingenuity, a bit of luck, and a tow cable, it could be done.
In the meantime the rest of the battalion had arrived, refueled, and restocked with ammunition. I began to feel slightly uneasy. What were we waiting for? Why weren’t we in action? And what was the next target?9
Improvision: Acquiring an Armored Car
I jumped onto a half-track and called out to one of the mechanics, asking whether be was prepared to risk it and join me in salvaging the car. “Sure,” he said, “with you there’s no risk.” I had long had my eye on this boy. He was a lean, courteous, baby-faced youth from a farm settlement of the Sharon Plain. For wild driving there was no one like him, and in no time we reached the armored car, hitched it to our vehicle, jerked it out of the ditch and onto its wheels, and towed it back to the bottom of the hill.
The signalmen set to work repairing its radio and the mechanics its engine and, with special reverence, its gun. But we needed training to operate it, so [we sent] to a nearby artillery unit for an instructor. He promptly put some of our men through the fastest gunnery course ever, and within an hour I was informed that the armored car was ready for action. We selected a crew and they dubbed their vehicle “The Terrible Tiger,” just the sort of name a Galilean farmer from Yavniel would choose. Dein Tarif grew less noisy. Enemy fire abated. The battalion seemed suddenly less fatigued. All thoughts were on the next move—to Lod.
The Terrible Tiger
I went to inspect the “Tiger.” The radio set had been replaced, and the engine was in order. One of the wheels was a bit flat, but there was no spare wheel, and it could not be changed. In the turret stood the new gunner, a private from the jeep company. I told him to . . . fire at a tree 500 yards away. He did so—and whipped off its main branch.
Blond Dov Granek and his company were left behind as a holding and harassing unit, while the rest of the battalion got ready for the Lod action. We set off at 2 P.M. The vehicles were not in ideal shape, but the men were. Heading the column was the armored car. Someone had chalked an arrow on its gun barrel and the words “Straight to the point.” Just looking at it gladdened everyone’s heart. Following the “Tiger” was a reconnaissance detachment of jeeps, and after them came the half-tracks. Another jeep detachment brought up the rear.10
Boldness on Offense
[Attack on Lod.] I assembled the unit commanders and issued my orders: The “Tiger” would lead, followed by the first half-track company, then the second half-track company, and finally the unprotected jeeps. I would be with the first half-tracks. If the “Tiger” or any of the half-tracks were hit, or stopped en route for any other reason, the rest of the force was to break column, spread, find some way of getting round the halted vehicles, and continue to advance. Once we got past the enemy outposts and entered the city, the battalion was to split up, keep firing left and right, sow panic, and thereby perhaps bring about the enemy’s surrender.
Violence, Speed, and Maximum Firepower
I told the officers that I attached the highest importance to the method of attack. If the battalion in column formation was stopped head-on, in effect, the only active elements coming up against the enemy were the first vehicles. The rest were not only passive but they also represented a static, compact target to the enemy. Therefore, if that happened, they were to deploy promptly to the flanks and storm the enemy positions from all sides. We would thus be exploiting our fire power to the full. . . . We had to bear down on our adversary, “run him over,” crush him in spirit and body. There were no questions.
The battalion moved. The track was not mined. . . . Movement was slow, for the track was narrow, cut by frequent shallow ditches, and strewn with light banners. The jeeps . . . fired [machine guns] almost without a stop, cutting the thick cactus hedges as with a scythe. We soon picked up speed, crossed the line of enemy posts, and entered Lod. From the police station came heavy fire. The “Tiger” responded on the move, and the rest of the battalion followed.11
[Units of the battalion got separated, but cleared the town of Arab defenders.]
Personal Leadership
The radio network was again in operation, and I was surprised to hear the voice of Dov Granek, whom we had left behind with his unit at Dein Tarif. He said that the Legion troops had attacked and recaptured the salient. . . . I told him that if he could not hold his position, he should fall back on Tira, and we would deal with Dein Tarif the next day. . . . With a certain hesitancy, he asked:“Perhaps I could organize the rest of my men and try and retake it myself now?” And then I understood that he was not asking for an order but for encouragement. I shouted into the microphone, “Commandos or not commandos?” He did not get it at first. “What? What?” he asked. I repeated: “Are we a commando battalion or not?” This time he caught on, and shouted back: “Commandos. Commandos. We attack.” “Take the salient from the east,” I told him. “Right,” he said.
Care of the Troops
While we had been moving, an undamaged half-track had driven up to mine, and the platoon commander, Charlie, asked permission to return and check whether one of his wounded men had not been left behind near the police station after all. I was inclined to refuse, but the eyes of the other men . . . were fixed on mine. lt was as though each imagined himself lying wounded in a ditch and abandoned by his comrades. “Very well,” I told him, “but don’t get into any trouble.” The detachment did not waste a moment. The vehicle screeched a U-turn and raced back into Lod.12
Ben-Gurion’s Opinion of Dayan and Vice Versa
[The defense minister called in Dayan and asked if he could break into the Negev, i.e., take on the Egyptians. Dayan said yes, but asked for and was given more vehicles, guns, and ammunition. Before he left, David Ben-Gurion, the Israeli prime minister, asked to see him.] He [also] . . . asked me about the Lod operation, but [during] my account I noticed that he did not share my enthusiasm. To his mind, this was not “war” but a “prank.” He did not agree with my implied thesis that the way to get past the first line of enemy positions was through the fast and daring dash. To him, an attack should be planned and carried out methodically and steadily, like the movement of a steamroller. We ended our brief exchange with his regarding me as a bold enough commander but somewhat of a partisan, and my regarding him as a wise and inspiring political leader who had learned . . . much of the Arabs and of war, but who had no close, personal, first-hand knowledge of either. He knew about them, but he did not know them.
More Daring and Improvision
[The 89th, re-equipped with half tracks, scout cars, and jeeps, and with captured ammunition for the “Tiger,” broke through into the Negev, where it fought the Egyptians.]
H-hour was 10 P.M. In the afternoon I assembled the battalion for a briefing. It turned out, in fact, to be a lesson-learning post-mortem of our Lod action, for we had had no time to hold this discussion earlier. The general lines of our operational plans were to break into the Faluja airstrip, held by Egyptian forces, by driving through and firing on the move; to cross the main Majdal-Faluja road and go on until we reached a Wadi south of the Karatiya mound; to cross the wadi and capture the mound on our vehicles. A road in the top of the mound was marked on the map as negotiable by vehicles. I gave orders that if it were to prove impassable, we were to capture the mound on foot. I emphasized that the most dangerous stretch would be crossing the Egyptiam lines, namely, the airstrip and the road. This stretch had to be traversed at maximum possible speed, with constant fire at the flanks, and, for the men in the armored cars, with heads down.
[They swept through the airfield, but got stuck in the wadi. The situation was dangerous; they were before their objective, Karatiya.]
Calmness under Stress
I felt drained. In my briefing I had categorically insisted that “no man is to stop for anyone—except by order—and no time is to be spent tending the wounded until we reach the wadi. If a vehicle cannot move it is to be abandoned. Until we get to the wadi there is only one rule: break through and move, fire and move.” Well, here we were in the wadi, and, of course, stuck.
I ordered the men to start digging into the bank of the wadi so as to hack out a path of shallower gradient which would offer the vehicles an exit. lt seemed a herculean task—and it had to be done under mortar and machine gun harassment. There was no alternative.
Near the digging site stood a platoon commander, Amos Abramson from Yavniel in Galilee, who had come on the Operation straight from an Officers’ Training Course. He was fresher, more sprightly than the others, and he showed no sign of anxiety or dejection. His whiskers curled at just the right angle. He was the man for me. I told him to take matters in hand— to see to it that the diggers dug, the guards guarded, and the rest of the men kept quiet. I then took myself back to the opposite side of the wadi, lay down, wrapped my head in my Arab kefieh, and went to sleep.
[Dayan had picked the right man. When he awoke, after an hour, the path out was ready.]
Organized Speed and Violence
The battalion came to life when I notified the commanders: “At 04:00 we advance on Karatiya with whichever vehicles manage to get out by then.”
The reconnaissance unit led off, followed by the “Tiger,” the jeeps, and five half-tracks. In addition to their normal complements, they now carried the men, weapons, and ammunition of the vehicles left behind. Following the column was the Givati infantry company, which . . . had caught up with us in the wadi, as previously arranged.
The “Tiger” advanced toward the mound and shelled the summit. The jeeps moved off to the flanks, and the half-tracks entered the village, taking it without casualty.
The Givati infantrymen now followed. They were to hold this village and enemy base, and they began clearing Egyptian emplacements, neutralizing possible points of opposition, and securing their own defenses.
It was 6 A.M. on July 18 when we left Karatiya and returned to base via Hatta without further incident. I did not know it then, but this was to be my last day with the 89th Commando Battalion.
Building Morale
A few hours later I drove to the hospital to visit the men who had been wounded in the action. Among them were Arik Nehemkin and Micha BenBarak, who had suffered eye wounds. I found the two of them in the same ward, lying in adjoining beds, eyes bandaged, pain and misery in their faces. I recalled my own feelings when I had lost an eye. . . . “Boys,” I said to them, “for all that’s worth seeing in this wretched world, one eye is enough.”13
Jerusalem: Benefits of Personal Leadership
Five days after the breakthrough in the Negev, on July 23,1948,I was appointed commander of Jerusalem. A delegation from the 89th, headed by Dov Granek of the Stern Group or Lehi, tried in prevent my posting from the battalion, but without success. The delegation met with Prime Minister Ben-Gurion, explained to him the importance of my remaining with the commando unit, and even threatened to follow me to Jerusalem with the entire battalion. BenGurion heard them out and then asked them how it was that I had gained the trust of dissidents like the men of the Stern Group [earlier anti-British terrorists] Dov said it was because I had always personally led the battalion in battle and had been absolutely straight with the men. At the end of the meeting, BenGurion told them that Jerusalem needed a good fighting commander, and Jerusalem took priority over every other place.14
[However, it was agreed between the Israelis and Jordanians to divide the city and establish a demilitarized zone between their forces. Until the war ended on 7 January 1949,Dayan saw little action.]
Readiness
[On 7 December 1952,Dayan was named head of the operations branch of the General Staff. His first job was to prepare the army to deal with terrorist groups striking from Arab villages just across the borders.]
It was the fighting man I was concerned with, for he was the cutting edge of the army’s tool, and a soldier in the army of Israel, under constant threat from its neighbors, had always to be ready for battle.
If we failed in minor border actions, as we had in the previous year, how would we stand up to the Arab armies on the battlefield? No amount of reorganization would alter the basic function of the Israel Defense Forces—to be fit for battle at all times.
It seemed to me that the recent failures were due to altered attitudes since the War of Independence in three spheres: the degree of the soldier’s readiness to risk his life in fulfillment of his mission; the place and duties of the officer inbattle; and the basic approach of the General Staff to casualty rates in a period of restricted hostilities.
“No Excuses”
It was not difficult to change the approach of the General Staff and I accordingly met with the Operations officers of all the commands. I told them that in the future, if any unit commander reported that he failed to carry out his mission because he could not overcome the enemy force, his explanation would not be accepted unless he had suffered 50 percent casualties. . . . As long as the unit had not lost its combat power, it had to go on attacking. What I left unsaid when I spoke to the officers was transmitted by the expression on my face. They were left in no doubt that if they failed to carry out their assignment, they would have to face a detailed debriefing; and if their explanations did not satisfy me, there would be little future for them in the army.
Special Operations Force 101
The factors that helped to bring about a practical change in combat standards during the year when Makleff was chief of staff and I was head of Operations were the channelling of the better-educated national service recruits to the fight-ing units and, above all, the establishment of a special unit known as Force 101. This was a volunteer unit which undertook special operations across the border. The commander was the daring and combatwise Maj. Ariel Sharon, whom I had admired and known well since he had been my Intelligence officer at Northern Command.
Again Building Morale
In January 1954 . . . Force 101 was merged with the paratroops, and Arik [Ariel Sharon] became commander of the Paratroop Battalion. For some time thereafter, this unit alone undertook all the reprisal actions against Arab terrorists and raids across the border. Later, there was a growing recognition that such assignments should also be given to other units. The paratroops ceased to be solely an army formation and became a concept and a symbol—the symbol of courageous combat—that other formations in the army tried to live up to. Through the paratroops, the army recovered its [self-] confidence, and it was now rare indeed that a unit commander returned from action having to explain the failure of his mission.15
[In December 1953,Dayan was made chief of staff.]
A Better Image for the Chief of Staff
Ben-Gurion pinned on my badges of rank and I received the standard of the chief of staff. . . .
At the end of the ceremony, the secretary of the Cabinet came over to me and casually observed that I would now have to change my partisan character. . . . I would have to “fashion a new Moshe Dayan,” he said. I told him he was wide of the mark. lt was not I who would change; the image of the chief of staff would change.
Austerity at the Top
I started the change of style in my own office. I abolished the post of aide-decamp to the chief of staff and I took over his room as my office. I brought in the field table covered by a khaki blanket and a glass top which I had used when I was head of Operations. I turned the large, well-furnished room which had been the office of the chief of staff, with its massive table and upholstered chairs, into a conference room. I wanted the field commanders who came to see me to feel that they had come to the headquarters of a higher command which was not very different and not cut off from their own. When I inspected units in the field, I wore fatigues, sat on the ground with the troops, got dirty and dusty together with them.
Out with the Troops—Surprise and Results
I paid a lot of surprise visits at night, mostly driving alone. I wanted to check whether units were in a constant state of readiness; ensure that there was always a responsible senior officer in every command headquarters; and talk to the soldiers returning from a night exercise or from guard duty at an outpost. Whenever there was an operational problem, I would see the head of the Operations Branch, the unit commander, and his junior platoon commanders. I wanted to hear what had happened, if it was after an action, or what special problems were envisaged, if it was before an operation. I wanted to hear things from them at first hand, without intermediaries, and I wanted the young officers to hear what I had to say directly from me, in my own words and in my own style.
My immediate office staff, my secretary and the head of my bureau, thought I showed too little respect for the chain-of-command principle by my direct contact with lower-echelon units through unexpected visits without prior notification to the intervening commands. They were probably right, but I was unable and unwilling to behave differently. I understood, demanded, appreciated, and approved of ordered and systematic staff work—on condition that it did not erect a barrier between me and the troops.16
Teaching Personal Leadership
Since it was through the young officers that we could shape the kind of army we wanted, I would use the occasion of a graduation parade at an Officers’Course whenever I had something special to say. I remember one such occasion at the end of May 1955. . . . A few days earlier, I had had the unpleasant duty of terminating the service of a young career officer who had ordered a soldier to proceed on a dangerous action while he himself sat in safety. A vehicle of ours was stuck close to the border of the Gaza Strip and was under heavy fire from the Egyptians. The officer . . . sent a driver to retrieve it, while he himself lay behind cover and issued directions from there. I told the cadets: “I would not have dismissed this officer if he bad decided that the danger was too great and it was better to abandon the vehicle rather than endanger lives. But if he decided to take daring action and save the vehicle, he should have advanced with his troops and laid his own life on the line together with theirs. Officers of the Israeli army do not send their men into battle. They lead them into battle.”
Liberal Arts or Technical Training
Forging an army, however, requires more than talk, and officers require more than courage and moral leadership. They should also be well educated and of rounded intellect. Most of our officers at that time had fought in the War of Independence and stayed on, having had no opportunity before that war or since of attending the university. I thought that should be corrected, and we accordingly introduced a system of sending officers to the university at the army’s expense. They could take a degree in any subject that interested them. . . . One officer who later became commander of the Armored Corps studied philosophy. . . . We also started sending officers in the technical services, such as ordnance and engineering, to the Haifa Technion (Institut of Technology) to study subjects related to their work.17
[Israelis tended to relax, all the same, assuming peace would prevail now that independence was won. Dayan did not believe it. As noted above, he initiated a policy of retaliation against Israel’s enemies, particularly Egypt, and strengthened the army.His efforts paid off in the victorious blitzkriegs of 1956,1967,and the victory of 1973. Finishing his memoirs after the 1973 war, however, he made the rare gesture—for a senior commander—of conceding that the tactics he had pioneered earlier, and used so successfully, had now become obsolete.]
Honesty, Open-mindedness, and Willingness to Change
When the war started, weak points were revealed in our armored strategy. . . .In several battles, our tanks used tactics based on the experience of the past. These tactics, which worked well in previous wars, favored the rapid dash of our armored forces, unaccompanied by the infantry and without artillery support, right into the heart of the enemy’s positions, on the assumption that this would bring about his collapse. This time the assault units found themselves surrounded by enemy infantry equipped with large quantities of . . . antitank weapons . . . which were capable of . . . stopping and inflicting heavy casualties on our tank forces.
The fact was that the entire face of war had dramatically changed. Even those who had carefully followed the technical advances that had been made in weaponry in the last few years could not conceive the rate of destruction they commanded. The efficiency of the tanks of both sides in the Yom Kippur War was ten times greater than that of the armor in World War Two.18
Conclusions
Dayan had a commando’s attitude toward war: “break through and move, fire and move.” That tactic worked in the war of 1948–49. Before the 1956 war, he had learned more about logistics, and reequipped the Israeli Army as best he could. That and his old strategy and tactics of rapid movement—blitzkrieg—won the wars of 1956 and 1967.
As chief of staff, his performance was admirable. His headquarters was austere and thinly manned. He spent much time with the troops. His night visits to units, without prior notice, undoubtedly improved alertness of commanders at all levels, and their units’ state of preparedness. As Minister of Defense, however, Dayan lost touch with the fighting machine he had created, and left command to his generals. Typically, he took responsibility for the early losses in the 1973 war all the same. But in concluding that his “strategy” of earlier wars was obsolete he went too far. “Fire and move” is still valid, even if armor needs infantry, artillery, and air support.
The Israeli Army still has the smallest ratio of staff men to combat troops of any in the world. Dayan set that laudable pattern.