Zvika Greengold, one-man tank battalion

By Joe Spier

Joe Spier
Joe Spier

CALGARY, Alberta, Canada — The “Medal of Valor” is Israel’s highest military decoration awarded for acts of extreme heroism in combat, in the face of the enemy, at the risk of life. Only 40 have ever been awarded, none since the 1973 Yom Kippur War.

The Arab offensive against Israel which began on October 6, 1973, the day of Yom Kippur, caught Israel with such surprise and so few troops at the fronts, that it became a national scandal. The outrage led to the firings of the IDF Chief of Staff, the Military Intelligence Chief among others and the resignations of Defense Minister Moshe Dayan and Prime Minister Golda Meir. In the early hours of the war, it was only through the personal initiative, selfless duty and courage of the vastly outnumbered troops of the Israel Defense Forces that prevented Israel’s defences from being overrun. This is the story of one.

The northern Galilee kibbutz, Lohamei HaGeta’ot (The Ghetto Fighters Kibbutz) was founded in 1949 by mostly surviving fighters of the Warsaw Ghetto uprising, including the parents of Zvi “Zvika” Greengold. On October 6, 1973, Zvika, a 21-year-old IDF tank commander, holding the rank of lieutenant, was at home on the kibbutz where he was born and raised. He was at the time not attached to any unit as he was on leave prior to attending a company commanders’ course. At 2:00 in the afternoon, air force planes began passing overhead. Apprehensive, Zvika rushed to a radio to hear that war had broken out.

On the northern front, 1,400 Syrian tanks had crossed into the Golan attacking west towards Israel. Because of the lack of preparedness, opposing the Syrian force stood only 177 Israeli tanks. The Syrian plan was simple; capture the Golan Heights, lost to Israel in 1967, by overwhelming force of arms within 24 hours, before Israeli reserves could reach the front.

Donning his uniform and frantically trying to reach the Golan by any means possible, Zvika hitchhiked to Nafekh, the main Israeli command centre and vital crossroads in the southern Golan Heights, arriving before dark.

Nafekh was in chaos. No troops or tanks were in reserve at the command centre. Zvika, unable to get into the fighting, found himself recovering casualties from disabled vehicles dragged from the front. Soon four Centurion tanks arrived, three with battle damage and only two operational. Zvika received command of the two functioning tanks. He helped with the removal of two bodies from one and manned the vehicles with pickup crews from displaced tankers that had made their way to Nafekh. By 21:00 hours, Zvika reported that his hastily improvised “force” was ready for battle and received the call sign “Koah Zvika” (“Force Zvika”) for radio communications. When the entire southern Golan tank force heard the radio report that Force Zvika was going into action, they were encouraged that reinforcements had arrived, not knowing that the support consisted of only two tanks.

Zvika received orders to take his force of two tanks south down the Tapline road and engage any Syrian tanks he should come upon. The Tapline road was one of two routes traversing the Golan from north to south. It was a service road which followed the underground Tapline oil pipeline that stretched from Saudi Arabia to Lebanon, cutting through the Golan and passing Nafekh. What Zvika and his superiors did not know was that the main thrust of the Syrian army in the southern Golan was coming down the Tapline road. And so began one of the most notable sagas of the Yom Kippur War.

The two tanks had proceeded about four kilometres down the Tapline road when topping a rise Zvika spotted a sole Syrian tank only about twenty meters away speeding towards him. Zvika tapped his gunner and the Syrian exploded in flames. Backing away from the light of the burning tank, Zvika discovered that the shock of explosion of the enemy tank had knocked out his own radio and intercom circuits leaving him with no means of communication even to his own crew. Jumping down from his tank, Zvika ran over to the other and ordered its commander to switch tanks and to return to Nafekh with the defective tank for repairs. Zvika was now fighting alone.

The burning Syrian tank was a forward scout and as Zvika continued down the road, the night was swarming with “cat’s eyes”, tiny running lights on the edges of the Syrian tanks. Coming over the crest of a low hill, Zvika was met by a trio of unaware Syrian tanks with driving lights on. Three rapid shots disposed of the tanks before they had an opportunity to return fire. Thirty minutes passed and then a large column of Syrian tanks and trucks appeared. Zvika took out the lead tank stalling the whole column. Up against terrible odds, Zvika kept shifting position, coming out of the darkness he would destroy a tank and then disappear only to reappear from a different direction to destroy another. The Syrian return fire was ineffective as they had difficulty identifying him in the midst of their own vehicles. This uneven match continued for over an hour before the remnant of the Syrian force withdrew believing they were up against a sizable strength.

Listening to his radio, Zvika began to realize how desperate the Israeli situation on the Golan was. Tanks were reporting that they were almost out of ammunition and fuel. Calls for reinforcements were met by replies that none were available.

The whole command was aware of “Force Zvika” but none realized that the force consisted of a single youngster with his tank crew waging a lone battle against one of the main thrusts of the Syrian army. When, central command was in contact with “Force Zvika” to ascertain its strength, Zvika, aware that the Syrians were likely monitoring communications, was circumspect. Ordered to press forward, he merely responded, “The situation isn’t good.” Zvika, to his relief, was informed that another force was on its way to join him.

Soon, ten tanks joined Zvika and were ordered to counterattack down the Tapline road. As the tanks descended a dip in the road, a waiting Syrian force unleashing tank fire and rocket-propelled grenades hit them. Eight tanks were hit including Zvika’s. His driver was killed and the remaining crew scrambled from the blazing Centurion. Zvika fell to the ground, his shirt and trousers afire, his face and hands seared by flames. He rolled into a ditch and managed to smother the flames. Not realizing the extent of his wounds, Zvika ran towards one of the few remaining operational tanks, ordered its commander out and took command.

Zvika now began to feel the pain of his wounds as the burns on his body began to blister and throb. But there was no time for commiseration as two Syrian tanks were bearing down upon him, their guns ablaze. Zvika ordered his gunner to fire and his driver to reverse. Zvika retreated into the darkness of the night, once again all alone.

As dawn approached, Zvika fighting alone along the Tapline road was reinforced by another group of tanks. They began pressing forward when they received word that they had been outflanked and Syrian forces were advancing behind them upon Nafekh. If Nafekh fell, the path to Israel would be open as not only was Nafekh an Israeli command centre, but it was the gateway to the Bnot Ya’akov Bridge across the Jordan River into Israel proper.

Zvika headed cross-country towards Nafekh. Arriving at the camp just as the Syrians were breaking in, he fired wildly at everything in sight. By now Zvika’s tank driver was in a complete state of shock incapable of reacting to orders. Zvika tenderly lifted his driver out and placed him in a half-track evacuating the wounded. Finding another driver, Zvika attached himself to an armoured brigade and in the next few hours destroyed ten Syrian tanks as the brigade forced the Syrians out of Nafekh and stopped the enemy advance.

After twenty hours of continuous fighting, the exhaustion overwhelming and the pain crushing, Zvika slowly, bloody and burnt, descended from his tank, collapsed on the ground and murmured apologetically, “I can’t anymore”. He then passed out from his injuries. Zvika was rushed to the medical evacuation centre and from there to the hospital in Safed.  By then Zvika, according to his estimate, had destroyed twenty enemy tanks. His superiors placed the number at more than sixty.

Lying in his hospital bed, Zvika did not realize that the tide of battle had turned. Dazed, he kept muttering, “Aizeh bardak, aizeh bardak” (“What a mess, what a mess”). At one point a general approached to praise Zvika for his courage and resolve and wish him a speedy recovery. The general then asked about the rest of “Force Zvika” not realizing that there were no others.

After retiring from the army, having achieved the rank of captain, Zvika was one of the founders of the vegetarian food company, Tivol and later the managing director of the Frutarom chemical company. Today Zvika is the mayor of the southern Israeli city of Ofakim.

At the onset of the Yom Kippur War, it was the raw courage, initiative and determination of Zvika and others like him that saved their nation. Their great bravery and individual resourcefulness bought the time, so desperately needed, to bring reinforcements to the front and eventually push the Syrians back behind the 1967 ceasefire line.

Zvi “Zvika” Greengold was one of only two Israeli soldiers who fought on the Golan in the Yom Kippur War to be awarded the Medal of Valor, Israel’s highest military decoration for ultimate heroism.

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Spier is a retired lawyer with a keen interest in Jewish history.  You may contact him via joe.spier@sdjewishworld.com.