“Thank you,” said Rabin, clearly moved. When he reported what Begin had said to the ministerial committee, the defense minister looked taken aback. Rabin remarked sarcastically to his own staff people as he left the meeting, “It seems Mr. Begin’s display of national responsibility descended on Mr. Peres like a cold shower, cooling off his demagoguery. And now I must quickly inform the French to proceed with the negotiations.”
Within the hour, the news was blazoned around the world: “ISRAEL SURRENDERS! ”
All of us working with the prime minister were gnawed by a supercharged tension while waiting for a response from Entebbe – all of us, that is, except Rabin himself. He summoned me to review the day’s correspondence, and even as I sat there trying to suppress my flutters he seemed unnaturally composed, as if morally fortified by the principled decision he had taken. Once his mind was made up, his clarity of focus never wavered. So when his red emergency phone, which was linked directly to the intelligence people in Tel Aviv, suddenly buzzed, he answered it calmly with a tranquil “Hello.” And then, nodding his head in comprehension, said, “Yes, I see. Good. Thank you. That gives us a little more time,” and he replaced the receiver.
“Any news?” I blurted.
“Yes,” he said, and he pressed the intercom button to speak to his military secretary, General Poran: “The French have just notified us that the terrorists have extended their ultimatum to Sunday July the fourth, to allow for the negotiations to proceed. Please inform the members of the ministerial committee. I’ll speak directly to the defense minister and the chief of staff. Hopefully they will come up with a military plan before then.”
A couple of hours later I was chatting with Freuka in his room when Rabin walked in, red in the face, accompanied by his press secretary, Dan Patir. “You won’t believe it,” growled Rabin. “Here I am, waiting for the defense minister and the chief of staff to come up with a military plan to beat the new deadline, and there they are backing the most outlandish proposal I’ve ever heard in my life. They want me to send Moshe Dayan – MOSHE DAYAN OF ALL PEOPLE – to Uganda to talk to Idi Amin! They have to be out of their minds, to suggest that we hand over one of our best-known public figures to that crazy tyrant so that he can hand him over to the terrorists as their prize hostage. It’s outrageous!”
“But I hear a military plan is beginning to take shape,” said General Poran, in an effort to calm him down.
“I’ve heard that too,” said Rabin, skeptically. “But I’ll believe it when I see it. Motta and Peres say they might have something to show me in the morning.”
And indeed they did – a spectacularly daring plan to which Rabin gave his ultimate approval after much refining with his practiced and professional military eye. He then summoned the full cabinet into emergency session. Since the item on the agenda was a matter of life and death, despite the fact that it was Saturday 3 July and therefore the Sabbath, all the religious ministers attended the meeting, arriving at the venue by foot, since driving is not permissible.
The prime minister opened: “What I’m about to say is top secret. We have a military plan.”
Some ministers sat back stunned, others gasped, still others immersed themselves in their paperwork as if to hide their thrill or their agitation, depending on their temperament, and yet others simply sat expressionless, waiting.
Flatly and factually, without a trace of emotion, Rabin explained, “As you know, so long as we had no military option I was in favor of conducting serious negotiations with the hijackers. But now the situation has changed.”
“Can you give us an idea of anticipated casualties?” asked one of the ministers apprehensively.
Rabin looked the questioner squarely in the eye: “The rescue operation will entail casualties both among the hostages as well as their rescuers. I don’t know how many. But even if we have fifteen or twenty dead – and we can all see what a heavy price that would be – I am in favor of the operation.”
“And are you positive there is no other way out, besides negotiating with the terrorists?” asked another.
“Yes, I am. If we have a military option we have to take it, even if the price is heavy, rather than give in to the terrorists.” He paused to scan the faces of his colleagues and gauge their moods. Most expressions were closed and dubious. So it was with uncharacteristic passion that he pressed them, declaring, “I have said all along that in the absence of a military plan we have to negotiate in earnest. Now that we have a military plan we have to implement it, even at a heavy cost.”
Motta Gur presented the essentials of the plan, code-named Operation Thunderbolt. A substantial military force was to be landed at Entebbe by Hercules transport planes, rather than by parachute. He described the stealth, caution and subterfuge that lay at the heart of the plan, all designed to catch the terrorists and the Ugandans off guard. He wrapped up by saying, “Gentlemen, after having attended the rehearsal of Operation Thunderbolt last night I can recommend it to the cabinet.”
A brief debate followed, after which the cabinet gave its approval. Rabin then stepped into an adjacent room to meet once more with the leading figures of the Knesset Foreign Affairs and Security Committee, who had gathered there at his behest. Hearing what the prime minister reported, Menachem Begin, again speaking in the name of the opposition, responded with solemn goodwill:
“Mr. Prime Minister, yesterday, when you had no military plan, I said that since the issue was a matter of saving Jewish lives we of the opposition would lend the government our fullest support. Today, now that you have a military rescue plan, I say again, we of the opposition shall lend the government our fullest support. And may the Almighty bring home all our people safe and sound.”
The green light given, Rabin went to sit quietly, alone in his room, until he was interrupted by Freuka, who said, “I’ve just received the signal. Our forces are on their way.” Rabin responded resignedly, “So be it. There is nothing more I can do.” And he poured himself a drink.
As the Hercules planes roared through the night toward Entebbe, the prime minister departed for home to try and grab a nap. When he awoke, he drove to the defense ministry, where a loudspeaker link-up was installed to relay reports from the IDF force landing at Entebbe. They could see nothing, but heard everything, relayed through an Israeli 707 command aircraft trailing at a safe distance and overseeing the whole operation: how the Hercules planes landed before midnight, their cargo bays disgorging a burnished black Mercedes and Land Rovers together with elite troops, to create the impression that Idi Amin himself was being driven toward the terminal with a military escort; how the IDF commandos burst into the terminal yelling to the startled hostages in Hebrew, “Shalom, shalom. We are Israeli soldiers here to rescue you. Stay down, stay down”; how they had burst into room after room gunning down the terrorists; how more aircraft landed to reinforce the troops and take the hostages home.
It was the longest night of Yitzhak Rabin’s life and, in many respects, his finest hour. Reflecting back on it, he would write this in his memoirs:
The military transmissions, laconic and dry, heralded the brilliant success of the operation, which was the furthest ever conducted from Israeli territory. It was carried out in an orderly fashion, exactly according to plan. The first plane took off from Entebbe within thirty minutes of landing and carried the hostages, the French crew, part of the assault force, and the casualties…. When the news came through that the last of our planes had left Entebbe, we drank a toast to the success of the venture. A few hours later people were literally dancing in the streets as a wave of elation swept over Israel.49
Uri Dan, a well-known Israeli journalist, full of vim and chutzpah, managed to get through to Idi Amin on the telephone. When he described to him what was going on in Israel – the singing, the dancing, the elation – the Ugandan dictator wailed, “What have you done to me? I am carrying the bodies of my soldiers in my arms. I treated the hostages so nicely. I gave them soup, soap, and toilet paper.”50
Five Jews met their deaths at Entebbe, one of them Lieutenant Colonel Yonatan (Yoni) Netanyahu, brother of Binyamin (Bibi) Netanyahu. He fell commanding the first assault group which broke into the terminal. In homage to his valor the mission’s code-name was changed from Operation Thunderbolt to Operation Yonatan.
On the very day the hostages were brought home, the fourth of July, Menachem Begin rose to address a special session of the Knesset. He said:
“Not since the Six-Day War has our nation known such a profound sense of unity. We shared a common anxiety and a sense of fraternal love for our people, emanating from the resolve to rescue our brothers and our sisters in peril. Perhaps it was because of this unity that we found within ourselves the capacity to mount such a momentous operation – a rescue mission unprecedented in gallantry and daring.
“There are no battles without sacrifices. We bow our heads before the grieving families who lost loved ones, among them a most valiant commander who charged at the head of his troops with the battle cry, ‘Follow me.’
“In the name of the whole nation of Israel we pay tribute to our armed forces, to our chief of staff, and to his comrades-in-arms. These officers and men have proven that the generation of the Maccabees has risen anew.”
Turning toward Yitzhak Rabin, who was sitting at the head of the cabinet bench in the well of the chamber, he said:
“Mr. Prime Minister, you and I belong to different political factions. Our outlooks differ, and in this parliament of free debate we shall assuredly continue to argue over matters of fundamental import, sometimes fiercely so. But not today. On this day I say to you with a full heart in the name of the opposition: Mr. Prime Minister, I salute you. I salute you for what you have done. I salute, too, the minister of defense, as indeed I do all members of the cabinet, and everyone else involved in the most difficult of decisions a nation’s leaders can possibly make. But you, Mr. Prime Minister, you who are the leader of the team – and I have some knowledge of being a leader of a team – I say that while all your colleagues have a share in the decision-making responsibility, upon your shoulders rests an extra morsel of responsibility. And who can measure the weight of that extra morsel?”
Then, to the whole House:
“What did we see at Entebbe? We saw an extremist left-wing German Nazi point a finger at the hostages: who shall go to the left and who shall go to the right – non-Jews one way, Jews the other. And we asked ourselves, Ribono shel olam – God Almighty – hardly thirty years after the Auschwitz crematoria, that cemetery without end, with the image of Dr. Mengele still fresh in our minds, standing there among the rows of Jews – of the men and of the women, of the children and of the babies – pointing his finger, ‘To the right: to death; to the left: to life.’ And there was no one to save them.
“Well, now there is. Now we declare for all to hear: Never again! Our generation has taken a solemn oath consecrated in the blood of our slain mothers, our butchered fathers, our asphyxiated babes, and our fallen brave – never again will the blood of the Jew be shed with impunity. Never again will Jewish honor be easy prey.
Photograph credit: Moshe Milner & Israel Government Press Office
Rescued Entebbe hostages waving to the crowd upon landing at Ben Gurion Airport, 4 July 1976
“We are no empire. We are but a small nation…but after all that has befallen our nation throughout all the generations – and not least the generation of the Holocaust – we declare that if there be anyone anywhere who is persecuted, or humiliated, or threatened, or abducted, or is in any way endangered simply because he or she is a Jew, then let the whole world know that we, Israel, the Jewish State, shall marshal all our strength to come to their aid and bring them to the safe haven of our homeland. This is the message of Entebbe.”51
A week later, a shy and awkward Yitzhak Rabin hosted an exuberant American Jewish solidarity mission in the garden of his official Jerusalem residence. The one-hundred-odd guests, gripped still with a Fourth-of-July-like euphoria, stood in line to pump the prime minister’s hand, slap him on the back, and announce uncommonly generous pledges for the cause of Israel.
A handsome rabbi, tall, trim, and tanned, strode up to the microphone in cowboy boots, planted a large multi-colored skull cap on his head, opened up a Bible, and delivered an invocation in a resonant baritone, telling the tale of an earlier rescue mission when Jew saved Jew. He was reading from Genesis, chapter fourteen, when Abraham came to the rescue of his nephew, Lot, who was in the hands of enemy kings. As the rabbi continued his description of the rescue, more and more men put their hands into their pockets to place skullcaps on their heads, out of respect for the biblical text. Rabin, seeing what was going on, stuck a handkerchief on his, but it was so starched it stuck up like an alabaster tripod. And when, in peroration, the rabbi stretched out his arms dramatically and began conferring the priestly blessing upon Rabin, he smiled and blushed bashfully, and deciding he’d had enough, quickly thanked everybody for coming and beat a quick retreat, leaving me behind to wind up the proceedings.
At the evening’s end, many of the visitors were moved to register their feelings of solidarity and kinship in the prime minister’s official guest book, located in the hallway. Leafing through it after they had gone I was struck by the warmth and spontaneity of their sentiments. Admittedly, not all were elegantly phrased. In fact, some were prize nuggets. I list them here below, names and addresses omitted for propriety’s sake:
“Mr. Rabin, I think you’re doing a swell job, but next time it would be nice if you’d put on a proper yarmulke.”
“Yitzhak – because of what our boys did at Entebbe I upped my pledge to a couple of grand. I’ll up it again if you rub out Arafat.”
“You are proof, Mr. Prime Minister, that to be a great leader you have to have a great war. God bless you for it.”
“Our President back in Washington has been fool enough to swallow all the Arab propaganda. We Jews rely on you for more Entebbes. Give ’em hell.”
“Well done at Entebbe. I’m sorry I did not have an opportunity to have a quiet chat with you about the future of your country. I have some definite views on the matter. You might wish to phone me. My number is with your security man at the door.”
“When Maria married me 35 years ago she went through the whole conversion spiel. We encouraged our boy, Milton, to make aliya, so as to be sure he’d meet a nice Jewish girl. He got a job in Beersheba and married a shikse from Russia. Where does that leave me? Anyway, congrats on Entebbe.”
“Our President demands reform in the Arab world. My Temple demands Reform in the Jewish State. Do something about it, please.”
“This is my first visit to the Holy Land and I, a Christian, support your just cause for the greater glory of Jesus Christ our Lord. Entebbe was an expression of His glory. This Land is your land. Stay the course.”
“Dear Yitzhak. You won’t mind me calling you Yitzhak. We must be about the same age, you and I. You’re Number One in my eyes. Congrat-u-laaaations! My late husband, Phil, left me well provided for, so I’ve made out a check for $2,000 for you to spend as you please. (Your bodyguard knows where to find me.)”
“Mr. Prime Minister, I run a big business, so if you’d like some help on how to run your little country I’d be happy to oblige free, gratis, and for nothing.”
“I congratulate you on your extraordinary rescue feat. But as a clinical psychologist I detect in you a bashful and timid reserve. Diagnostically, I would say you have a depressive personality. Its root cause is an inability to elicit love. You’re in search of a hero. Henry Kissinger wrestles with the same problem.”
“I had planned a private word in your ear but I can’t push in a crowd because of a back problem. What I wanted to say is, you’re doing a good job and I’ve donated a tidy sum. But isn’t it time you stopped being a socialist and become a proper Yiddisher mensch?”
“I leave this extraordinary country after five days feeling enriched and strengthened. God bless yo
u for saving our people. Sure, you still have problems. But don’t worry – we Jews thrive on problems. If we didn’t have problems we’d invent them, otherwise we’d die of boredom. Keep it up. Next year in Jerusalem!”
“Great country! Great visit! Great people! Question: Is it true that you and Peres don’t hit it off? Terrific! I feel exactly the same way.”
“Mr. Rabin, yashar koach. These are Moshiach times. Consult the Lubavicher Rebbe. He knows what’s what. Am Yisrael Chai!”
“It was lovely. I just wish you would speak English a little better.”
Chapter 27
Enter Jimmy Carter
Mr. Begin – time for a question?”
The Jerusalem Post parliamentary correspondent, Asher Walfish, had chanced upon the opposition leader as he was exiting the Knesset chamber on his way to the cafeteria for his mid-afternoon refreshment.
“For you, always,” said Begin, his smile widening in recognition. “Please join me for a glass of tea.” He beckoned the journalist to a corner table, thanked the waitress profusely for serving them so promptly, took a sip of his tea, and asked, “Now, what is it you’d like to talk to me about?”
“Yesterday’s American election,” answered the correspondent, readying his pen and pad. “Now that Jimmy Carter has won, and has announced Kissinger is not his choice for secretary of state, do you have any comment on Prime Minister Rabin’s statement that we shall yet look back on the Kissinger years with nostalgia?”
The Prime Ministers: An Intimate Narrative of Israeli Leadership Page 35