No Mission Is Impossible

by Michael Bar-Zohar

  Raised in kibbutz Mishmar HaSharon, the young soldier had soon been noticed for his creative mind and his bravery. He was a gifted piano player, known for his passion for taking apart and assembling clocks and watches. He had soon become the most decorated soldier in the IDF, for his courage and military feats, some of which remain secret to this very day. He left the army to study physics and mathematics at Hebrew University, earned another degree at Stanford University, in the U.S., worked for a while at the Weizmann Institute and finally reenlisted. In 1971, he was appointed commander of the Sayeret.

  On the night of May 8, while Yariv and Cohen were negotiating with Rif’at, the Sayeret was at a remote area of the airport rehearsing a surprise attack on a Boeing 707, placed at their disposal by Israel Aircraft Industries. Under the dazzling light of powerful arc lamps, the commandos were rehearsing a simultaneous penetration into the plane through the pilot’s cockpit and the emergency exits. In the shootout that would ensue, the terrorists would be neutralized before they had time to trigger their explosive charges.

  As night fell, Dayan’s major concern was to immobilize the hijacked aircraft on the ground and prevent it from taking off. Benyamin Toledo, an El Al veteran mechanic, escorted by Barak and another soldier, sneaked to the back of the plane. Toledo crawled to the aircraft’s belly and expertly removed the valve controlling the hydraulic system of the landing gear. The oil immediately started to spill on the runway. A few moments later Toledo quietly laid the valve in front of Dayan.

  Still, Dayan was not fully satisfied. Five minutes later, Toledo and another mechanic, Arieli, were crawling under the Boeing again. This time their objective was the plane tires. As the compressed air started hissing its way out, the plane sank down a few inches without anybody noticing. Only Captain Levy saw the hydraulic oil warning light engage. He called the control tower and reported the problem. A moment later he reported trouble with the tires.

  “Tell those guys,” Dayan told Levy, “that they can’t take off.”

  “I already have,” Levy said, and asked that somebody come to repair the hydraulic gear. Dayan answered that this would take time, as the airport authorities would have to bring over an expert from Tel Aviv. Captain Rif’at tacitly agreed to wait, but now he demanded to talk immediately with the Red Cross representatives in Israel. Their arrival was also delayed. At 1:30 A.M., Rif’at lost patience and threatened the Israelis that if the plane was not repaired in one hour, he would blow it up; to which Cohen calmly answered that the aircraft could not be repaired during the night. Finally, Rif’at agreed to wait until 8:00 A.M.

  Under the cover of darkness, the Sayeret fighters surreptitiously approached the plane. They felt they were ready to attack it right then, but Dayan chose to wait a little longer. Yet, he told General Elazar, “Starting from now, you must be ready for action.”

  At about 3:00 A.M., a momentary lull descended upon the airport, and several of the Israeli officers fell asleep in their chairs. Dayan had found refuge in the air controllers’ room, but was soon driven out by the flushing and gurgling of a nearby toilet. He finally stretched out on a sofa in the children’s playroom, flanked by a plastic-foam giraffe and a rubber effigy of Popeye.

  With sunrise the Red Cross officials arrived and were allowed to visit the plane. At 9:00 A.M., they were back at the terminal and told Moshe Dayan that the situation in the plane was unbearable. The food and water had run out, the air-conditioning didn’t work, the passengers were exhausted and the hijackers were tense and nervous. “Will you release the prisoners?” the Red Cross envoys asked Dayan, but he stuck to his delaying tactics. “We agreed to negotiate,” he said.

  There was something absurd in the situation. It was a glorious sunny day, and Lod airport was carrying on its routine activity: planes were taking off and landing, crowds of passengers filled the terminal halls, arriving and departing. And in full sight of all, at the distant end of a runway, a hundred hostages were held in an explosive-rigged plane that could blow up any moment.

  Captain Levy was alone in the cockpit when one of the hijackers, Atrash, walked in. Levy felt it was now or never. He threw himself on the Palestinian, grabbed his gun, aimed it at him and pulled the trigger.

  Nothing happened.

  He pulled the trigger again. Nothing.

  Only now did he realize that the safety catch was on.

  Atrash jumped him and wrung the gun out of his hand. He then released the safety catch and aimed the weapon at Levy’s head.

  Levy begged for his life. “Don’t shoot!” he managed. “Don’t! If you kill me, that would be the end of everything!”

  To his great surprise, a lopsided grin spread on Atrash’s face. “I should have killed you,” he slowly said, “but you might be right, and we’ll still need you to get out of here.”

  Captain Rif’at entered the cockpit. He suspected that the Israelis were delaying the negotiation because they didn’t believe he could blow up the plane. He stuck a small plastic bag in Levy’s hands that contained some of the explosive he had brought on board. He ordered him to get off the plane and meet “the people in the control tower.” He didn’t mince words. “Tell them that the plane is rigged with this stuff, and that we have enough of it to blow up not one but five planes. If you return with a negative answer or do not return at all, we’ll blow up the plane.”

  A Red Cross car took Levy to Dayan. The pilot carried out his mission calmly. A quick examination by two officers proved that the contents of the plastic bag were indeed a powerful explosive. In the meantime word came from Shabak analysts who had discovered Rif’at’s true identity. The man was a serial plane hijacker. He had hijacked an El Al plane to Algeria in 1968 and a Lufthansa plane to Aden in February 1972.

  When facing Dayan and the generals, Levy gave them a clear and succinct report about the situation aboard the plane, the terrorists and their positions. The two female hijackers had placed their explosive belts in the front and the rear of the plane cabin, and carried hand grenades. The pilot’s report was to be of great help to the Sayeret fighters later. While he was speaking, an observer positioned on the terminal’s roof reported that he had identified one of the female hijackers and she could be easily recognized by her dress’s color.

  Dayan was cheered when Levy described to him his confrontation with Atrash in the cockpit and the Palestinian’s decision not to kill him. That confirmed Dayan’s motive in delaying the negotiation and wearing down the terrorists. Dayan had been right: the terrorists did not want to commit suicide; they wanted to live, that was why they had spared Levy’s life.

  Dayan reached his decision. “Go back,” he told Levy, “and tell those guys that we agree to release the prisoners. We’ll bring them to the airport so they can see them with their own eyes. We’ll repair the plane and you will fly it to Cairo.”

  Levy seemed relieved, but he took Dayan aside. “I have a last wish,” he said. “If we don’t get out of this alive, will you make sure that Israel takes care of the education of my daughters?”

  Dayan promised. Before Levy left, Dayan asked him, “Are there any sick people aboard?”

  “No.”

  “Any pregnant women?”

  Levy chuckled. “Not yet.” Even in those fateful moments, the guy’s sense of humor had not evaporated.

  Dayan was deeply moved by the pilot’s courage. But when he turned to Dado Elazar, he was his old cynical self. “Dado,” he quipped, “you have until four P.M. to free the passengers. I must be back at the office by five. I have an appointment.”

  Levy returned to the hijacked plane. Shortly before four, the terrorists saw a magnificent sight: a TWA Boeing was being towed by a small tractor to the vicinity of their plane. That was the plane that would take the released terrorists to Cairo! Rif’at and his comrades also saw buses carrying handcuffed prisoners dressed in sweatsuits; it was clear that these were the terrorists, soon to be released. Rif’at and his three friends burst into wild shouting, “The Zionists have surrender
ed!” They jumped with joy, hugging and embracing each other.

  They were wrong. The “prisoners” in the buses were Colonel Yitzhak Mordechai’s paratrooper recruits, who had been dressed and cuffed and brought over as a deception. As for the Boeing, it was a wreck, recently purchased by the Israel Aircraft Industries; it even had been stripped of its engines.

  The operational plan was ready. According to an agreement with the terrorists, a convoy of small service vehicles was to approach the Sabena plane, carrying the mechanics who were about to repair the aircraft. But actually the “mechanics” were sixteen Sayeret fighters. Barak had divided his men into attack details. Among their commanders were Uzi Dayan, Moshe Dayan’s nephew and a future commander of the Sayeret, who had been home sick with rubella, but hurried to volunteer for the mission; Dany Yatom, a future head of the Mossad; Mordechai Rahamim and Benyamin (“Bibi”) Netanyahu.

  At the last moment an argument had set the two Netanyahu brothers, Yoni and Bibi, against each other. They were members of the Sayeret (and their third brother, Iddo, who was studying in the U.S., would join the Sayeret the following year). Sons of a famous Israeli scholar of right-wing convictions, Professor Benzion Netanyahu, the two young men, raised in Israel and America, were known for their courage. Both of them wanted to participate in the Sabena mission. Barak was willing to take only one of them. Yoni pulled rank and seniority on his younger brother, but Barak finally opted for Bibi.

  In order to make the deception work, the commandos donned white overalls, urgently brought from the nearby Tel Hashomer hospital. They got on their service vehicles but were intercepted by Gandhi, who had noticed that their overalls were too white, too immaculate. That was not the way mechanics were supposed to look. The terrorists might see through the ruse, Gandhi said, and the entire plan would be doomed. Gandhi ordered the soldiers to crumple and soil their overalls and roll about on the runways, so they would look as mechanics should after a long day’s work. He also added some older, real mechanics to the team, lest the youthful faces of the commandos arouse suspicion.

  An important challenge facing the Sayeret was the use of handguns. The attack should be carried out with handguns, but the fighters had trained in the use of all sorts of firearms except handguns. “That was the first time in my life that I held a gun,” Netanyahu later admitted. In order to overcome that obstacle it was decided to bring over several reserve fighters of the Sayeret who were employed as security guards in the El Al planes. Those men had been extensively trained in the use of handguns and were considered experts. One of them, Mordechai Rahamim, even had become a hero when he’d single-handedly pounced on four terrorists armed with Kalashnikov submachine guns and hand grenades who had attacked an El Al plane in Zurich. Athletic, Kurdistan-born Rahamim had jumped out of the plane, killed one of the terrorists and kept firing at the other three, until the Swiss security forces arrived. The world press sang the praise of this young man who’d held at bay three Kalashnikov-armed terrorists with nothing but his handgun. Rahamim was covered with glory, and his gun, a Beretta 0.22, became very popular in Israel.

  Rahamim was called at the last moment to join the Sabena commando. Some Sayeret members lay in wait by the terminal, and as soon as an El Al plane landed, they would snatch the security guards and embed them in the team.

  The major concern was the explosives. The mission commanders knew that if the charges exploded, the aircraft would turn into a death trap. The first task of the rescue team, therefore, was to neutralize the explosive belts. A minute before the mission was launched, Chief of Staff Elazar pulled Rahamim aside. “Morduch,” he said emotionally, using Rahamim’s nickname, “break into the plane and find the charges!”

  Finally, the small convoy got on its way and slowly approached the plane. The terrorists ordered the “mechanics” to pass, each one in his turn, before the cockpit, where Captain Rif’at stood with a gun in his hand and watched them. On the ground, beside the “mechanics,” stood the Red Cross representatives. Every fighter had to open his overalls when passing in front of the plane to show he was not armed. Actually, all of them had stuck their handguns in the backs of their belts. The Red Cross men noticed the soldiers’ guns but didn’t do or say anything.

  The soldiers started moving around the plane, equipped with toolboxes and other instruments. They secretly assembled the ladders they would use to climb into the plane. “I was certain I was not going to come out of this plane alive,” Rahamim recalled. He whispered to his friends what to tell his family after his death.

  And then, suddenly—a new problem. One of the security guards, Yaakov Tzur, who had just arrived with a long El Al flight from abroad, declared that he could not function. “I must relieve myself,” he said. “I held back all the way to Israel, and you kidnapped me right from the plane. I have to bend down and do my thing.” The incident was both embarrassing and comic, but nobody was in the mood for laughing. Every minute counted. Tzur’s comrades tried to convince him that the mission would be very short, and later he would have as much time as he wanted. Netanyahu, the head of his detail, asked him, “Yaakov, you need a small one or a big one?” But Tzur didn’t wait, pulled down his trousers and crouched under the plane. And all the Sayeret, and all the generals and all the people of Israel had to wait patiently until Tzur got up and buttoned his pants.

  Now, finally, the commandos positioned their ladders. At 4:24 P.M., they heard Barak’s shrill whistle. That was the signal. In seconds they climbed to the exit doors and the cockpit entrance. The first to break into the plane from the front left exit door were Mordechai Rahamim and Danny Arditi. Mordechai found himself face-to-face with Atrash, who fired at him. Mordechai fired back but missed. At the same moment Bibi and Arik broke in by the front right exit door, while Omer Eran and Danny Brunner got in by the back left exit door. Omer saw Atrash and shot him.

  Danny Yatom failed to enter by the front door, which got stuck after Captain Rif’at fired at the commandos. Meanwhile Uzi and his detail broke in by the back door. Uzi saw in front of him a swarthy man and fired, thinking he was one of the terrorists. The man was actually a diamond merchant from Belgium, who was severely wounded but survived. Less lucky was an Israeli passenger, Mary Holtzberg-Anderson, who was caught in the crossfire and fatally wounded. Uzi’s task was to find Rima Tannous, the female hijacker who was somewhere in the back of the cabin with her explosive belt. He moved from the back toward the center of the cabin and suddenly a passenger, Marcelle Eini, pointed at a woman crouching in the aisle, holding an armed hand grenade. “Don’t shoot!” Rima begged. “Don’t shoot!”

  Uzi grabbed her hand and very cautiously pulled the live grenade from her stiff fingers, “finger after finger.” He threw the explosive charges out of the plane and had Rima taken outside.

  In the meantime, Mordechai Rahamim was slowly moving forward. Rif’at fired at him from the cockpit door. Rahamim fired back till he emptied his magazine, then crouched behind a seat to reload. While doing so, he tried to calm down a frightened woman sitting next to him: “Don’t worry,” he mumbled in English, “it will be all right.” He did not know that the lady was Reginald Levy’s wife. During the exchange of fire, Rif’at escaped to the toilet and Rahamim pursued him there and shot him dead.

  On the plane wing, after the rescue. Ehud Barak is in white overalls. (Ron Ilan, GPO)

  Bibi and Marko Eshkenazi also moved toward the front, looking for Theresa Halsa. Bibi caught her at the left side of the cabin. Marko found in her clothes a battery for the activation of her explosive charge. She violently objected to being taken out of the plane and Marko slapped her; his gun went off and the bullet wounded both her and Bibi.

  And then it was over.

  The takeover had lasted ninety seconds. The two male hijackers were dead. The women were captured. The passengers were jumping with joy, kissing each other.

  Dayan and his staff joined the rejoicing. He congratulated his men and got into his car. When he arrived at his office in Tel Avi
v, he glanced at his watch. It was 5:05 P.M. He was on time for his appointment.

  Hershel and Ida Norbert were almost smothered with love by their family. But Norbert couldn’t forget the sight he had glimpsed by the plane window when the Sayeret attack started. He had seen white figures climbing up and down ladders on the wing of the plane. That reminded him of the book of Genesis in the Bible, describing Jacob’s ladder and the angels ascending and descending upon it.

  For him and a hundred other passengers, they were angels indeed.

  BENYAMIN NETANYAHU, SAYERET MATKAL FIGHTER AND LATER PRIME MINISTER

  “What is seared deep into my memory is the moment before the raid, as we stood in white mechanics’ overalls on the plane’s wing and waited to receive permission to break in. Everyone who has gone through the experience of waiting before a raid involving opposition gunfire knows that, in these moments, every fighter withdraws into himself.

  “I had reached the unit before dawn, and there was no one there. We realized that something was happening at the airport, went there and quickly organized in teams. My brother Yoni came and told me, ‘I need to be there.’ He explained that he was the most experienced fighter in the unit, a claim that was hard to argue with because it was true. I told him that I had to lead my soldiers, and he persisted in taking over my command. I refused. He said, ‘Then the two of us will take part in the mission.’ I asked him, ‘What will we tell our parents if something happens to one of us?’ Eventually we turned to Ehud Barak to decide, and Ehud determined that I should go with my soldiers.