Nothing happened for several months. By the early spring of 1973, with my
Epstein Suite indexes the text; the original document lives at its official source. We don't host the original file — view it on the official release to read it in full.
View the original on the official releaseDocument text
Text is machine OCR and may contain errors. Confirm against the original source above.
Nothing happened for several months. By the early spring of 1973, with my
two-year term as sayeret commander winding down, I assumed the operation
had been vetoed. I could understand why. As we worked on our plan, it had
become clear that getting into the heart of the Lebanese capital, hitting the
apartments and getting out again without starting a minor war would be by far
the most difficult mission we had attempted. I did not doubt that Sayeret Matkal
offered the best chance of success. But it wouldn’t be easy. I figured that
whoever was making the decision had come to the same conclusion.
I was on a weekend away with Nava and Michal in the Red Sea resort of
Eilat when things suddenly began to move. At around noon on Saturday, I got a
call from Talik’s deputy in the kirya. “Ehud,” he said, “we need you back here
as soon as possible.” When I asked why, he said: “You remember how you were
approached by someone with some questions, and you went back to them with a
list of other questions for them to answer?”
I told Nava I’d been summoned to a meeting at the chief-of-staff’s office —
the kind of call of duty that both of us were now used to — and grabbed the first
commercial flight north. It got the the kirya early in the evening, and joined a
meeting that was already well underway. Dado was in his usual seat on the
right-hand side of the table he used for staff discussions, flanked by Talik.
Across from them was Manno Shaked, the officer who had phoned me to tell
me about the Sabena hijacking and who had now succeeded Raful Eitan as
katzhar, overall chief of the infantry and paratroopers. Beside him were the two
Mossad officers with whom I’d had most of my dealings about Beirut. They
were all staring at an aerial photo of the Lebanese capital, with an area marked
in blue pen around a street called Rue Verdun.
I entered and took one of the remaining chairs. Gesturing toward the image
of Beirut, Dado turned to me. “Do you know this place?” he asked. Yes, I said.
I’d seen the photo. Nodding toward the Mossad men, | said: “These two officers
showed it to me.”
“Do you have an idea how to do this operation?” I told him that we didn’t
have a fully detailed operational plan. But I said we’d looked into the problems
we'd face. “We believe we can do it.” When he asked how, I outlined the
approach we’d settled on: a small force, thirteen men, plus two from Mossad to
act as drivers. We would need the Mossad men to go to Beirut ahead of us, and
rent a pair of nice American cars, the kind typical tourists would use. We’d land
on the waterfront, well south of the most built-up parts of the city coastline, and
meet up with the rental cars. When we reached the apartment blocks, three
135
HOUSE_OVERSIGHT_011606
Have a question about what this document contains?
Ask the documents