This is what I remember from those last few hours leading up to the battle:
At sunset that day, we were told that a cease-fire would come into effect the following day - Friday, June 11th 1982, at 12 AM. Hostilities were ending, and our orders were to accompany retreating Syrian units in the area making their way back to Syria or the Syrian-controlled area in Lebanon. The specific area where we were headed had been reported as being clear of any enemy forces. I was thankful that the war would be over the next day, and that I had for the most part been spared any traumatic experiences. My mind was focused on getting out of there, I had planned on taking a short trip to the Greek Islands before starting my first year at university. We were repeatedly told that under no circumstances were we to fire upon enemy forces unless they fired upon us, a message that was also announced in the media by the government, which I recently found online in video archives.
However, commanders on the ground were relentlessly pressured by the Israeli military command to expedite the drive further North, regardless of the cost. After the war it emerged that a group of government and military figures were hoping to achieve a strategic goal of forcing the Syrian army to withdraw from Lebanon, and installing a pro-Israeli Christian government in Lebanon. Throughout the fighting there had been a number of unsuccessful attempts by Israeli forces to secure the Beirut-Damascus highway and trap the Syrian forces in Lebanon, cutting them off from Syria. As the ceasefire approached, the possibility of reaching that goal was fading.
Our battalion made its way North, slowly and carefully, towards an area known as the Toblano Triangle crossroad.
At some point the Northern front commander could be heard on the radio channel berating our battalion commander:
"Why is it taking you so long?! I could have taken my jeep and been there 4 hours ago!"
That was odd, I thought. Our earlier orders didn't seem so rushed. As we approached the Toblano crossroad, I could see in the midnight starlight figures of soldiers crouching on the side of the road next to their armored carriers, waving us forward. It was obvious to me that these were "our" soldiers, I wondered who they were, perhaps I knew some of them. I waved back, and my commander hit my helmet forcefully and motioned me to shut up. Our commanders knew something which we did not yet know - they knew that we had been secretly designated to make a last attempt at reaching the Beirut-Damascus highway, which was not far from where we were, and they knew that those soldiers on the side of the road were Syrian commandos. Our battalion was in the midst of a Syrian compound, the Syrians forces on the ground thought we were another Syrian unit, and it would be a matter of minutes before they would realize who we were.
For reasons unclear, an Israeli unit positioned on a ridge above and to the left of the road disregarded the order not to fire upon enemy forces unless being fired upon, and opened fire on our convoy, hitting two tanks and killing 5 soldiers.
As a result, the Syrian forces on the ground realized who we were and immediately began firing upon us from very close range. It was this deadly ambush that marked the beginning of the Battle of Sultan Yacoub.