Barrel of a Gun

by Al Venter

  Somalia has regressed to become the most backward and least-developed country in the world. It has huge potential, but these days its only wealth lies in herds of camels that are found wandering about everywhere. (Author’s collection)

  The most important of these military establishments is the Combined Joint Task Force – Horn of Africa (CJTF-HOA) headquartered in Camp Lemonier, formerly the French Foreign Legion operational headquarters in Djibouti. Effectively, this modest harbour, linked by rail with Addis Ababa, serves as the focal point for DoD anti-al-Qaeda efforts in the zone, while CJTF falls under the jurisdiction of the United States Central Command (USCENTCOM).

  On average, its HQ staff at the Red Sea base totals about 250, while the number of assigned troops, though classified, vary between one and two thousand. Additionally, the US Navy – in conjunction with various countries including many from NATO as well as China – conducts surveillance patrols and missions in the Red Sea.

  Thus, on an altogether different level, this war goes on…

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Search and Destroy in the Eastern Mediterranean

  The Israeli Navy today reported seizing a cargo boat with 50 Palestinians described as guerrillas trying to sail to Lebanon. The boat, intercepted outside the Lebanese port of Khalde, was taken into custody with its passengers and crew. Military authorities said the ship flew a Honduran flag, had an Egyptian crew onboard and Lebanese owners. An Israeli Navy patrol became suspicious of the merchant ship after she sailed from Cyprus. Those arrested [were described] as members of Al Fatah, Yasir Arafat’s guerrilla organization.

  New York Times, 8 February, 1987

  THERE WAS A TIME, NOT that long ago, when we journalists on assignment in the Middle East would complain that Israel must be the last Western nation to insist that foreign correspondents submit their copy for censorship.

  Iraq and Afghanistan changed all that, to the extent that Israeli strictures today are mild compared to what some countries countering insurgency are likely to demand. More often than not, even getting to report on military issues in parts of Asia and Africa is impossible without a letter of authority from somebody at the top.

  Journalists who arrived in Israel were required sign an undertaking that included a proviso that any copy intended for publication was vetted by a government official. Quite simply, it was a matter of no signature, no press card. There were no exceptions, which is why we all signed at some stage or another. We, like the Israeli officials with whom we dealt, knew that signing your rights away as an independent observer was tantamount to censorship, though in reality controls were pretty limited. Also, the strictures were almost impossible to enforce.

  As a visiting ‘fireman’ I never complained. I would do my story, take my pictures, get back on the plane and go home. Nobody at Ben Gurion Airport would ask about the notes in my briefcase or what I’d filed while on Israeli soil, or possibly whether the films in my hold-all had anything that might compromise the security of the nation.

  However, don’t be fooled that you can enter the country incognito, do your job and leave again unnoticed. Everything in Israel is ‘noticed’. It is also recorded. You’ll get past immigration, but you only need to file once to have someone knocking at your door, and not necessarily in the early hours of the morning.

  Military reporting in Israel has always been a fairly low-key affair, with accreditation handled by the appropriate authority at the Government Press Centre at Beit Agron in downtown Jerusalem. If your intention is to report on security matters, you’d deal with the office of the Israel Defense Forces (IDF), or, as it is called, the Spokesman. For foreign correspondents permanently based in Jerusalem in the first decade of the New Millennium, the situation is no different: the government has a grip on them, intangible perhaps, but perceptible.

  ‘Recalcitrant’ news providers are pigeonholed in a category of their own, especially when those who might be giving too much prominence to ‘the other side’, i.e. the Palestinians.

  That situation might involve some kind of leverage, like unobtrusively restricting access to IDF units, or not being provided with information that might be passed on to other hacks as a matter of course. It doesn’t take long for the message to get across and if that is not working, then a quiet word with the newspaper or network’s senior management or owners, most of whom are Jewish anyway, will do the trick. Or the unhappy soul is sent packing, possibly on assignment elsewhere in the world.

  For decades Ha’aretz, a left-wing daily, has routinely highlighted what it terms ‘the Palestinian plight’ and because it has a strong following, they get away with it in the face of public opinion, which was why I rate the newspaper among the best in the Middle East.

  As a consequence of these tactics, my colleagues tend to tread warily. If they meander too far off course in what they submit to their editors in London, Washington, Helsinki or Tokyo, they’re aware that while they won’t be deported, they might have a tough time renewing their residence permits next time round. That’s fine in the normal course of events, but it might be intimidating if you emerge with a scoop that might have a bearing on national security. Generally, this is not likely to happen, but conceivably it might, especially in this epoch of instant international communications and the Web.

  Consequently, the last time I visited Israel I had my picture taken, completed the requisite forms and went along to Beit Agron to fetch my government press card. The questions asked were perfunctory. Apart from how long I intended to stay, I was required to detail which areas I intended to visit. Did I know any Palestinians or did I intend to contact members of the community? These were some of the questions asked by a female sergeant. She remembered me from my last visit and that I had a British passport. I’d been there several times already for Britain’s International Defence Review, part of the Jane’s Information Group stable.

  My track record was in the computer, but she was required to ask anyway. At the same time, you couldn’t avoid getting the impression that under the brittle crust of this female soldier’s friendliness lay a magma of paranoia, especially when dealing with foreigners.

  The object of my assignment then was to spend a week on board one of the smaller Israeli Navy patrol boats searching for insurgents along the Lebanese coast and it had all been arranged months beforehand. Named Daburs, the Hebraic for hornet, these were fast, functional and though only lightly armed, adequate for their envisaged security role.

  Spending time with the Israeli Navy in the Eastern Mediterranean was one of the highlights of many visits to this corner of the Middle East. We went on a week-long patrol with a Dabur gunboat: the word means ‘hornet’ in Hebrew and suggests a powerful sting in its tail. (Author’s collection)

  It was the mid 1980s and there were about a dozen of these small gunboats which could easily maintain 30-knots for extended periods while out on patrol. Searches would sometimes take them hundreds of miles from home, but that involved planning and back-up and only happened when intelligence indicated that something was happening in distant waters. Some operated out of the naval base at Haifa, a moderate-sized, well-fortified complex north of the main harbour. As with all Israeli military establishments, security was stringent and uncompromising. You didn’t go near that section of the harbour unless you had very good reason to do so.

  Since the 1980s, naval gunships doing that work have been replaced by larger, faster, better-armed and equipped warships. They’re described in Jane’s Fighting Ships as light missile cruisers, which confirms that the level of security throughout the Eastern Mediterranean has escalated.

  The threat of infiltration by armed enemy agents is constant and usually involves a few zealots at a time who try to infiltrate the country. These efforts, too, have become more sophisticated. The Israelis have widened their searches to look for one-man submarines as well as some fancy propulsion devices that might propel a scuba diver for miles, perhaps 30 or 50 feet under the surface of the sea.

  At one of
the border camps I visited near Metullah in the far north, there was a poster on the wall of the radio room, which detailed some of the gadgets. Hizbollah, it seemed, had acquired a dozen mini-subs. The one displayed was made of stainless steel.

  At that time, I was also able to run through some of the scuba equipment acquired by Israel’s foes and, being a diver, I found pretty advanced equipment. There was some of German manufacture, mainly from Draeger, together with American stuff, the kind you can rent at any dive club.

  Said, my military escort, whom I’d picked up earlier at my hotel in Tel Aviv, said: ‘They’ve used some of it to get through, but for every action they take, we’ve had to devise a reaction.’ I was aware that a year before, some aspirant infiltrators had used jet-skis in a bid to run the blockade from Tyre. They were blown out of the water and nobody survived.

  Jet-skis, miniature one-man submarines, microlights, light aircraft and ‘Go-For’ speedboats have all been brought into action by Hizbollah in their efforts to penetrate Israeli defences. Most of the time the assignments were suicide jobs. Like many such operations, Israeli shore radar installations tended to pick up insurgent groups within minutes of their leaving Tyre, or whatever other Lebanese port the insurgents used. That set the chase in motion. However, with time, even this routine has evolved into something more complex.

  For some years the IDF had a sensitive radar station at Al-Bayyadah in Lebanon, some miles north of Naqoura, the main UN base in the Mediterranean. Those who took the coast road built by Alexander the Great 2,000 years ago from the border to Tyre, couldn’t miss this sophisticated electronics facility with its tall masts and multiple antennae on high ground on the mainland side of the road. It was illegal under international law, since the facility was not on Israeli soil, but the IDF was the most powerful presence in the region and nobody could do anything about it.

  That was the way it stayed until Hizbollah exerted pressure and took enough young Israeli lives to force the IDF back across its own lines.

  Our skipper, Lieutenant ‘Motti’, was an Israeli Navy regular, barely into his twenties. He took us into Sidon harbour several times and that only stopped after we’d come under sniper fire a few times: fortunately the shooters were bad shots. (Author’s collection)

  I spent a good deal of time with the IDF, both in Israel and with specific units in Lebanon during and after the 1982 invasion that took the Israel Army all the way to Beirut. I visited the country dozens of times and rarely left without something solid on which to report.

  The most interesting, and probably the most exciting, jaunt was the week I spent on board the Dabur which was assigned to patrol offshore Lebanon.

  I was introduced to the commander of the Dabur that was to take us out, a mature 22-year-old regular who liked to use only his first name in our presence: ‘Motti’, or more formally, Lieutenant Motti. I was with him for a week, yet I never did discover his family name.

  Motti was on his last tour as a ship’s captain. Thereafter, he told us, he was destined to take command of a flotilla of six Daburs: not bad for a youngster who had finished school four years before. But then, as he said, so much in Israel is different. Having taken us onboard at the Haifa base, he called a shore station on the radio. It was all staccato and in Hebrew. Then he turned to the two of us, smiled and said: ‘We’re ready to go to Lebanon.’ Before we left the quay he addressed us. ‘I’ve got just a few orders for you’, he said:

  When we put to sea, we start our patrol where the harbour wall ends. Also, we’re at sea for the duration even though we might go into one of the Lebanese ports, either Sidon, south of Beirut, or Tyre. If that happens, we’ll stay at anchor but only during daylight hours and you will remain on board and not go ashore. At sunset we head out again and get back here in five, maybe six days. We’ll see…

  I learned later that this was a standard routine, and it took place after the invasion of Lebanon. The entire coastline, all the way up to Beirut was under Israeli control, including the two ports that included the harbour further south, which the Arabs like to call Sur. To us, it was Tyre.

  ‘Questions?’ It was the typical Sabra approach, blunt and unequivocal. Lieutenant Motti was not particularly strong on protocol and while his English was only functional, he did pretty well, often using his hands to make a point.

  The next issue involved communications. Did we speak any Hebrew? We shook our heads.

  ‘OK. No problem. Your flak jackets are there’, he said, pointing towards a cluster of olive-green battle jackets and army helmets that lay towards the stern.

  If we go into port or the crew is called to action stations, you wear them… they are necessary… no exceptions. No action is likely, but we take no chances. In port – either in Tyre or in Sidon – they sometime shoot at us. It is the same when we approach anything at sea, even fishing boats… they are the worst… sometimes loaded with explosives.

  When George later complained about the weight of his jacket while filming, Motti retorted sharply: ‘You are on board with me. You are my responsibility. You take off your shirts, your pants, if you like. No women on board. But your protection you will wear it when I order you to do so!’

  The radio rattled and Motti called out a string of orders. Within minutes we were heading out of the naval base at half-speed. Perhaps half-an-hour afterwards – with Haifa still very much in sight – all the Dabur’s guns were cleared and prepared for firing. It was a routine procedure on leaving harbour. Then, when we reached a reasonable distance offshore, the crew manned the boat’s two 20mm cannon – one aft, another forward – and fired bursts. They also tested the Dabur’s two .50 Brownings on either side of the bridge, after which they were dismantled and taken below. These larger calibres were only hauled topside during interceptions, or while in a Lebanese port.

  Every boat within our operating range in the Eastern Mediterranean had to be searched for weapons. It was a slow, sometimes dangerous business because some of the insurgents were willing to give up their own lives to cause damage to their sworn enemy. (Author’s collection)

  Lieutenant Motti and his crew worked in conjunction with a host of other Israeli gunboats and patrolled a large area which, according to demand, might extend all the way to the coast of Cyprus or beyond. Once a blip appeared on the radar, it would be rated on a scale of one to ten, according to the nature of the target and its threat potential. Israeli Navy intelligence and surveillance systems – then and now – are integrated with an even more complex network ashore and as with everything else, covered much of the Middle East.

  Each target picked up by shore radar was classified for possible response and perhaps one in a thousand might be hostile. Nonetheless, all were studied and aerial or satellite photos called for if necessary.

  Foreign craft that had not been security-classified were rated no lower than five and it stayed that way until some kind of contact or observation had been made. Until then, the men on the Daburs regarded every contact as a potential threat, especially at night when attempts at infiltration were most common.

  On detecting a blip, the Dabur would warn one of the shore stations of its intention to intercept, but by then the order would probably already have been given. If the unknown factor was possibly an enemy presence, another gunboat – or perhaps three or four, again depending on threat level – might be diverted to provide backup. Meanwhile the radios would buzz…

  The work done by these vessels was likened to that of an air force patrol, flying in ever-diminishing circles over a vast expanse of sea. It was no less time-consuming and, to most of the sailors, just as boring. But this was work that had to be done. These days, the craft are bigger and much of the work is electronic and space-age configured.

  During a subsequent visit in August 1996, it quickly became clear that while there appeared to be very little visible insurgent activity, there was actually a good deal going on. Not a week went by – sometimes not a day – without Israeli intelligence picking up reports of projec
ted Hizbollah raids. As one Israeli intelligence officer explained during a briefing in Jerusalem, Hizbollah – Hassan Nasrallah’s much-vaunted Party of God – had very effectively replaced both Amal and Palestinian attacking forces, though both organizations still launched occasional raids, if only to keep their men in a state of readiness for what they liked to refer to as ‘The Big Push’.

  Action stations on board a Dabur as we approached an unidentified fishing craft. Because of suicide attacks, the Israeli Navy took no chances. (Author’s collection)

  Over the years, there have been numerous attempts to breach the Israeli maritime cordon, part of which can be clearly seen from the beach at Nahariya or from the observation point on higher ground at Rosh Haniqra.

  During one of my stays in Naqoura, I was awakened one morning by several lengthy bursts of machine-gun fire. Later, I learnt that an Israeli gunboat had warned off a bunch of Lebanese sponge-fishing boats that were drifting too close to the Israeli coastline. The firing went on for minutes.

  While almost none of the attempts by fundamentalist forces have succeeded, the game goes on. In the past, when a hostile group did manage to penetrate – whether by land or sea, and occasionally by air, perhaps using balloons or microlights – these efforts got the full media treatment. One such was the attack on 11 March 1978, by a small group of Palestinian zealots who came ashore from a small boat near the kibbutz Maagan Michael.

  After killing an American girl, Gale Robbin – she had chanced upon them on a deserted stretch of beach – they set off along the main coastal highway and fired on a bus headed for Haifa. It stopped and the terrorists boarded, shooting three civilians in the process and wounding eight others. A fierce gun battle followed when the hijacked bus was later halted at an Israeli roadblock. A marble monument alongside the road where the incident took place stands there today and I see it each time I travel the road.