When the US actually did move ‘heaven and earth’

Forty-nine years ago this month, Israel’s survival was in serious doubt. A coalition of Arab nations, led by Egypt and Syria, had surprised the Israeli military with a coordinated, all-out assault on the Jewish nation as it observed the holiest day of its year, Yom Kippur. Armed with the latest in Soviet weaponry, Arab forces quickly destroyed Israeli warplanes and tanks in numbers so shockingly large that a complete conquest of Israel — previously unthinkable — suddenly seemed all too possible. 

In desperate need of rearmament, Israeli Prime Minister Golda Meir sent multiple appeals to the United States for military aid. Some of President Richard Nixon’s military advisors counseled against such a move, as they feared it would rapidly spiral into open warfare between America and the Soviet Union.

Nixon, after huddling with National Security Advisor Henry Kissinger, ordered a decisive response that few if any expected: a full-on emergency mobilization of the American military to immediately bring the Israeli military back to its pre-invasion strength.

Launched just six days after the first Egyptian and Syrian attacks, “Operation Nickel Grass” constituted a resupply campaign that surpassed anything ever seen before — or since — in American history. U.S. military transports filled to the brim with weapons and supplies immediately took off for Israeli airbases, shadowed by American fighters with orders to shoot down any plane that appeared even remotely hostile.

Quickly restocked with fresh American equipment, Israeli forces rapidly regained control of the battlefield and, by the time a cease fire took hold four weeks later, once again had little to fear from its enemies.

The success of Nickel Grass, driven in no small part by Nixon’s order to use “everything that can fly” to resupply Israel, is more than an interesting historical anecdote: It makes one wonder why the Biden administration’s pledge to move “heaven and earth” for Ukraine’s military hasn’t been fulfilled with similar urgency.

Since the moment Russian forces crossed into his territory last winter, Ukrainian President Volodymyr Zelensky — much like Golda Meir — has repeatedly beseeched America and its allies to replenish his rapidly attritted weapons stockpiles. Zelensky’s pleas have become increasingly urgent even as Ukrainian troops retake swaths of captured territory, thanks to fears that Russia’s newly announced mobilization of 300,000 plus troops will allow it to regain the battlefield initiative.

The Biden administration can of course rightly point out that it has committed over $17 billion in military aid to Ukraine, and that U.S.-supplied weapons like the highly touted “HIMARS” rocket artillery systems have played a vital role in some of Kyiv’s recent military victories.

Still, when compared to the pace and scale of Operation Nickel Grass, the Pentagon’s efforts to resupply Ukraine seem far more half-hearted.

Consider the kinds of weapons delivered through Nickel Grass. The Nixon administration immediately transferred its most advanced fighter jets to Israel’s inventory. Some, previously earmarked for the U.S. Air Force, were instead flown straight from the Boeing factory in St. Louis to Israeli airbases. Others were flown from Air Force squadrons in America and Europe to Israel. In more than a few cases, American pilots landed their jets at Israeli airbases and watched an hour or two later as Israeli pilots took off in them for combat missions, some with still hastily painted Star of David emblems still drying over the U.S. Stars and Stripes.

Hundreds of America’s latest battle tanks, armored vehicles and artillery pieces, along with tens of thousands of tons of critical ammunition also went straight to frontline Israeli troops. Those transfers played a key role in turning the tide of the war: One U.S. intelligence study concluded that the majority of the nearly 2,000 Arab tanks lost in the Yom Kippur War were destroyed by American anti-tank missiles delivered to the Israelis through Nickel Grass.

Western arms shipments to Ukraine have paled in contrast. Yes, the much-ballyhooed HIMARS rockets and various shoulder-launched missiles have helped blunt Russian attacks, but the kind of weapons Ukraine needs to dominate the battlefield — like advanced jets, missiles, and armored vehicles — are still being held back. At the same time, some of the weapons systems promised to Ukraine either won’t arrive for upwards of two years or consist of pre-Vietnam era systems long-retired from frontline service.

Part of the reason for this barrel-bottom scraping can be attributed to regrettable Pentagon decisions like literally shredding upwards of 10,000 modern “MRAP” armored vehicles — something desperately needed by Ukrainian troops — rather than shipping them back from Afghanistan. Equally head scratching is the U.S.’s donation of 200-plus frontline M1 Abrams tanks to Morocco. One can only imagine how much of a difference America’s undisputed king of the armored battlefield would have made in Ukrainian hands instead of motoring around in a country that last saw a serious armored threat from Erwin Rommel’s World War II Africa Korps.

Western governments, including the U.S., undoubtedly have moved slowly on Ukrainian military aid over fears of unduly provoking a nuclear armed Vladimir Putin. It cannot be ignored however that when U.S. faced a similar calculus in 1973, it acted decisively and undoubtedly saved Israelis from the same misery now befalling innocent Ukrainian citizens.  Perhaps it is time for the Biden administration to take a page from history and launch its own Operation Nickel Grass.

Brian Finch is an attorney in Washington, D.C. who focuses on global and cyber security issues.