Modern radars have cursors that can be placed on a target, and the distance course and speed of the target instantly appear in digital format.14 This was not the case in 1967. There was a cursor that could be projected from the center of the screen to the target to provide range information. The operator on MTB 204 viewed the scope and, upon measuring the distance to the target, orally passed that data to the CIC officer, Ens. Aharon Yifrach.
The CIC officer had a dead-reckoning tracer (DRT), which was an illuminated map board or plot of the area. Beneath the plot was an illuminated dot surrounded by the 360 degrees of the compass, which is called in Hebrew shoshanat haruchot, which translates as “rose of winds.” In English it is usually referred to as a compass rose. The position of the illuminated dot at the center of the rose of winds beneath the map of the area was stabilized by a gyroscope. It was run by an electric motor, and the position was calibrated and set before leaving harbor. The accumulated error in the position usually did not vary more than one nautical mile per hour. It was customary to reset the rose of winds when a fix was obtained.
The speed calculations were made not on the radar scope by the radar operator but by the CIC officer on the plotting table, or DRT. The plotting table was described to this author by Aharon Yifrach, the CIC officer on boat 204. He said the plotting table was about three feet by three feet and was located in the CIC compartment, which was about two meters (a little over six feet) by three meters (a little over nine feet). The compartment was big enough for either the CIC officer or the radar operator to sleep on the deck while the other stood watch. The CIC compartment was below the main deck, and the ladder to the main deck came out just behind the bridge, which was a few additional steps higher. Yifrach communicated with the bridge via an intercommunications system that consisted of a large rubber microphone with a speaker on the bridge. The intercom was a single system, not a duplexer. The user could either talk or listen but not both.
Communication between the MTB and Stella Maris was possible from the bridge or from the CIC compartment by VHF radio if the MTB was north of Tel Aviv. In the El Arish area, well south of Tel Aviv, communication with Stella Maris was only possible by single-sideband (SSB), but there was no SSB unit on the bridge. Yifrach believes the SSB radio was made by Collins and was called a T-618 or 618-T. Communication between the MTBs was by a designated VHF radio frequency; the radio was on the bridge and not in the CIC. Ensign Yifrach confirmed that new UHF radios for communication with aircraft had been installed on the MTBs just before, or at the very beginning of, the 1967 war. These radios were on the bridge. They were new and very complicated to use. On the command boat, only Yifrach knew how to operate the air-link radio, and he was not near it. For that reason, the one other MTB that was able to use the UHF air-link radio talked to the Kursa flight and relayed the messages to Division Cdr. Moshe Oren via surface-communication VHF radio. The communications systems left a great deal to be desired.
The initial position of the target was marked on MTB 204’s plotting table. The calculations are not simple. The initial calculation of the distance from the MTB to the target was made by a nineteen-year-old enlisted radar operator in a dimly lighted radar compartment, in an MTB skipping across the water at thirty-six to thirty-eight knots, rushing to his first combat. The twenty-year-old CIC officer made a mark on the plotting table with a pencil to indicate the position of the target. Then, in a minute or two, he got a second target position and marked it on the plot. Next, he measured the distance of the movement with a straight-edge ruler. If he used a one-minute measurement, he multiplied the distance the target moved by sixty to calculate the speed in distance per hour. If he used a two-minute measurement, he multiplied by thirty, and if he used a three-minute minute measurement, he multiplied by twenty. Yifrach, the CIC officer, believes the initial radar position was in error. He initially calculated the target speed as thirty knots. Upon request for verification, he recalculated twenty-eight knots.
In the first UHF radio communication from Kursa flight received by MTB 206 and relayed to MTB 204, the lead MTB with Commander Oren on board, the pilot stated that the ship had a single funnel with a mast forward and a mast aft. This information was passed from the bridge of the MTB, where it was received, to Yifrach in CIC with the comment that the target was a Zed-class destroyer (i.e., a former British Z class). In retrospect, accepting this report was another error, because, although the Egyptian Z-class destroyers had a single funnel (or stack) and masts fore and aft, the two Egyptian Z-class destroyers were in the Red Sea and could not have come back into the Mediterranean because the Suez Canal was now closed as a result of the war. However, the report seemed logical to Yifrach in view of the report that El Arish was being shelled from the sea. The only Egyptian warships capable of the shelling from a distance of fourteen miles would have been destroyers or Soviet-built Osa or Komar missile boats.15 But this target was reported as a destroyer, and its computed speed was thirty knots. For the target to have been shelling from the sea as reported, it must have been a destroyer, and a destroyer can steam at thirty knots.
Some authors reject the explanation that the radar “painted,” or showed a reflected target, at twenty-two miles and that the Israel Navy miscalculated the actual speed of the Liberty. The error in calculating the speed is explained above. There are a number of possible explanations of the reported radar distance. A review of the electronics literature discloses a phenomenon called “channeling,” or “refraction.”16 On dry, clear summer days, radar beams sometimes bounce or curve and are able to reach targets even beyond the normal line-of-sight range. June 8, 1967, was a dry, clear summer day. Thus the channeling or refraction theory is most likely and is supported by the fact that as the Davis approached the Liberty, the latter appeared on the Davis’ radar over the horizon at eighty-five nautical miles. A message from CTG 60.5 to COMSIXTHFLT and CTF 60 090004Z June 1967 reads, “1. Tentative identification Liberty lat 32-35 N long 31-05 E 85 miles ahead of me ETA 0430Z.” It is interesting to note that Davis personnel were able to accurately estimate their rendezvous time with the Liberty approximately four and one-half hours in advance.
If channeling were not involved, the distance beyond the horizon is not significant and can be accounted for by the projection of both the radar antenna of the MTB above the surface of the sea, about eighteen feet, and the projection of the superstructure of the Liberty above the sea surface. It is also possible that the MTBs and the Liberty were two or three miles closer together than the reported radar range calculation.
The reported speed of the Liberty as thirty knots had two important implications. First, under Israeli naval doctrine, a radar target moving faster than twenty knots was presumed to be a warship. U.S. naval doctrine at that time made essentially the same assumption. The U.S. doctrine in 1967 was that speed of a vessel of twenty-five knots or more observed on radar identified the vessel as a warship.
Since the Ibrahim al-Awwal incident in 1956, there had been an ongoing dispute, still very much alive, between the Israel Air Force and the Israel Navy over which service was entitled to credit for the capture of the Egyptian destroyer. As a result of air force–navy rivalry, air force controllers at ground radar control sites would not let naval liaison officers serving with them talk on the air defense net.17
Many persons intimately familiar with the navy–air force rivalry believe that if the Israel Navy had believed it could reach and overtake the target, it is inconceivable that it would have called for help from the air force. Other experts point out that the information available to the motor torpedo boat crews—that is, that the target was running at twenty-eight or thirty knots and therefore must be a destroyer—indicates that a call for air support would have been both appropriate and prudent. It is the opinion of this author that the navy would not have called for air force assistance if the navy believed it had the remotest chance of overtaking the target, even if it was certain that the target was a destroyer.
In any event, t
he navy did call for air support. The MTB division commander determined that the target had its bow pointed toward Port Said, which lay about sixty nautical miles from the Liberty’s 1300 (local time) position.18 Liberty’s undisputed heading was 283°. If the Liberty continued at twenty-eight knots, as the Israeli naval force thought, and the MTBs chased at thirty-six, they could not close the twenty-two-mile gap before the target entered the safe haven of Port Said. The MTB message to naval headquarters at Stella Maris was recorded as: “Division 914 is reporting that targets are sailing west at 30 knots. An order was made to double check speed [of the target]. He [referring to MTB Division 914] can not chase them. Suggests dispatch aircraft.”19
At Stella Maris, Rear Adm. Shlomo Erell, the chief of the navy of Israel, had been in direct operational command of Israeli naval forces from the early morning hours of June 8. After the 0600 reconnaissance flight had sighted the Liberty at her early-morning position, Erell had a “neutral” wedge placed on the plotting table.
At 1100, the second in command of the navy, Capt. Issy Rehav, assumed tactical command when Erell left Stella Maris on Mount Carmel to go down to the port of Haifa. Shortly before Rehav took tactical command, the command duty officer, Cdr. Avraham “Ramy” Lunz, directed removal from the plotting board of the wedge marking the ship.20 Not only did Lunz order removal of the wedge, but also he did not inform Captain Rehav of his action when Rehav took command.
Why did Commander Lunz fail to advise Rehav? His explanation was that ships do not stand still. He was of the opinion that the ship had moved at least seventy-five miles from the point where it was previously sighted steering south at fifteen knots. The Liberty deck log shows her speed at 0600 that morning as fifteen knots. It also reflects that the Liberty changed course at 0555, made a right turn toward the coast of Egypt, and steered 190° for about ten minutes before turning left to 060° and correcting back on her track of 130°, which was her original course to Point Alpha. The Liberty maneuvers began at the time that the Israeli morning naval reconnaissance plane was near the ship. The maneuvers may have been undertaken to deceive the aircraft into thinking that the ship under observation was heading for Port Said.
Five hours on 190° at fifteen knots would have put the Liberty in the vicinity of Port Said at about 1100. It is not known if Commander Lunz considered that possibility when he ordered the wedge removed. As a result of removing the wedge and failing to tell Captain Rehav about it, Lunz was named a party in the judicial inquiry by the Israeli examining judge who later investigated the incident.21
The MTBs had requested an air attack on what they initially believed from their radar to be an Egyptian destroyer running from them toward Port Said. The call went by telephone from navy headquarters in Stella Maris to Lieutenant Commander Pinchasy, the naval liaison officer at air force headquarters in the Kirya in Tel Aviv. Though Pinchasy had also been aware of the Liberty’s 0600 position, he did not associate this information with the MTBs’ report of an Egyptian destroyer shelling El Arish from the sea
Pinchasy’s location was in a small room on the first floor of the command-and-control center in the “pit,” or high-command post, of the IDF command-and-control center, in the Kirya. The pit was somewhat akin to the U.S. National Military Command Center in the Pentagon. In the pit, or war room, area is a series of underground bunkers. In 1967, the minister of defense had a very small room off the army spaces. The army command post had separate rooms for each army command or theater and for various functions. One very important room was the incoming communications room. All incoming messages were received there and distributed to the room or rooms to which they were related. The army bunker was not like the navy or the air force command posts in Stella Maris or the pit, as it had no real-time plot of the entire ground situation. The air force command center was near, but not directly accessible to, the high command or army bunker.
The Israel Air Force command center was two stories in height from floor to ceiling. A large tabletop map displayed the entire country of Israel and portions of surrounding countries. Facing the map on the second-floor level was a raised platform where the air force commander in chief, Maj. Gen. Mordechai “Motti” Hod, sat. To his left, behind a glass partition, sat the chief of air force intelligence, Lt. Col. Yeshayahu “Shaike” Bareket. To the right of Hod sat Col. Rafael “Rafi” Har-Lev, the deputy air force commander, and to Har-Lev’s right sat the chief air controller. The second-floor platform had some depth, and behind the four front-row seats sat or stood various members of staff, such as the deputy chief air controller, who sat behind his chief. On the opposite wall, data was posted for quick reference.
Airmen worked on the first floor around the table, placing and moving wedges in a manner similar to the scenes of Royal Air Force war rooms in World War II movies. Below this second-floor platform was a series of additional rooms on the first floor housing other staff, such as the air defense controller (who had very little work during the 1967 war) and the naval liaison officer to the air force. The staff members in the rooms on the first floor were linked by telephone to the level above them, and the naval liaison officer communicated with the navy command post by closed telephone line. It was necessary to initiate a call and wait for the telephone to be answered. This was much less efficient than an open-line system, where the telephone was never hung up and a person constantly listened at each end. A stairway went from the first floor to the second floor, where General Hod was seated. Lieutenant Commander Pinchasy made his request for an air attack by telephone to General Hod on the second floor above him. The request was denied.
To understand the situation in the Kirya and the attitude of General Hod, it is necessary to be aware of an event that had taken place on the night of June 7, 1967. Israel Defense Force coastal radar had reported three large ship targets steaming north along the coast. The air force and the navy were alerted, the latter dispatching its three destroyers—the Eilat, the Jaffa, and the Haifa—to meet the ships, which were presumed to be Egyptian destroyers. The air force launched several flights of Mirage fighter-bombers. Broken clouds moved across the night sky.
The air force pilots reported to General Hod that through the breaks in the clouds they could see three wakes of ships moving at high speed. They asked for permission from General Hod to attack. Hod was on the telephone with Rear Admiral Erell, who was at the navy command center at Stella Maris in Haifa, and told Erell that his pilots had the enemy ships in sight and he wished to authorize the pilots to attack. Because this was a naval matter, protocol gave the navy the last word, and Erell said no. Hod argued that his planes had limited fuel, and that if they could not attack at once he would pull them off. Erell insisted on illumination. Reluctantly, Hod ordered a plane to dive below the clouds and drop a flare. A moment later the flare illuminated the Eilat, the Jaffa, and the Haifa. There were no Egyptian ships. The radar blips had been false images, or “ghosts.”22
The climate remained cool between the navy and the air force as an aftermath of what Hod believed to be the wasting of his limited air assets the night before. Lieutenant Commander Pinchasy reported his lack of success in securing air support to Stella Maris and was told to be more forceful. He got up from his desk and went upstairs to the second floor platform to confront General Hod directly, much to Hod’s annoyance. Hod did not wish to commit his limited air assets to another wild-goose chase for the navy. “Do you have a target?” Hod asked. Pinchasy answered, “Yes.”23
General Hod passed the order for air support to Col. Shmuel Kislev, his chief air controller, seated two chairs to Hod’s right. Kislev’s deputy, noting that Menorah flight,24 consisting of four Mirage IIICJs armed with conventional bombs, was outbound to the south, asked Kislev if he should divert Menorah flight to this target. Kislev replied, “No.”
Menorah was en route to strike surface-to-air missile (SAM) sites along the Suez Canal, and Colonel Kislev deemed that mission more important than running an errand for the navy. Ironically, Kislev’s deci
sion not to divert Menorah flight proved to be to the Liberty’s benefit, because Menorah flight was armed with conventional iron bombs; had they attacked the Liberty, it is very likely that they would have sunk her in minutes. Kislev next looked over his airborne assets and noticed Kursa Flight, two Mirage IIICJ aircraft armed with 30 mm guns and air-to-air missiles, on combat air patrol over the Suez Canal and near the end of its time on station. Kursa’s return route would take it over Point Boaz,25 just a few miles from El Arish and the Liberty. Kislev thus directed Kursa Flight to proceed toward El Arish and ordered the flight leader “to bang,” or attack, the target “if it is a warship,” warning the flight leader, “but be careful, we have MTBs in the area.” He also gave Kursa a UHF frequency on which to communicate with the torpedo boats and the code name of MTB Division 914, which was “Pagoda.”26
Kursa Flight departed the Suez Canal and flew toward El Arish. Upon arrival near El Arish the Kursa Flight pilots saw a ship steering west and then observed other boats to the north. At first they thought there were only two other smaller boats, but then they observed three. Although Kursa had authority to attack “a warship” in the vicinity of El Arish, Kursa attempted to establish direct radio communication with the Israeli naval boats.27 Air-to-ship communication, however, was not easy. The Israel Navy had installed UHF radios with aviation frequencies in all three MTBs shortly before the war began, but only MTB 206 was able to operate the equipment properly and communicate with Kursa. MTB 206 then passed the communications to Lieutenant Commander Oren, the division commander, in MTB 204.
The Liberty Incident Revealed Page 6