by R G Ainslee
39 ~ The Final Plan
Friday, 7 November 1980, In Flight to Israel
The snows of the Anti-Lebanon mountain range loomed to our left, rising out of the early morning haze, as we approached the Mediterranean coastline. I sat in the front seat of the Cessna 180: a single engine, four-seater, high wing, light aircraft. Our destination lay 200 miles southeast, on a heading of 160 degrees, about one hour and fifteen minutes flying time.
The pilot, a suave Israeli air force veteran, adjusted his Ray-Bans and announced, "Our half way point. — Over there, the snow, that's Mount Hermon. I bet you are surprised we ski in Israel."
"News to me," I lied, unsure what he knew about our mission.
"Maybe we'll be able to get up there," said Jack. He was from Montana and an expert downhill skier and learned to cross-country with the Norwegian Jegerkompaniet north of the Arctic Circle.
"Oh, it is too early," said the pilot. "Wait until late next month."
"Too bad," I said with a hint of sarcasm. "Anyway, we're gonna be too busy?" — Doing what? — The mission, whatever it was, played on my mind. — We're in the dark, proceeding on hope, but I don't trust these people, but here I am, no choice, all I know is I might get a chance to deal with Marsden and the SkB.
Jack and I had been through a lot together. A shootout and chase across Iran and Afghanistan, we even saved each other's lives a couple of times. I was glad he was along. Not to take anything away from Amadeo, Jack was the toughest guy I ever worked with. Whatever faced us in the next few days; it was comforting to have him watching my back.
As the engine droned on, I reflected on the condition of my marriage. I had tried to talk with Lisette, but she withdrew into remoteness, returned to her shell, blocked out unhappiness, not unlike when we first met. — Doesn't matter, we're together again. Whatever part of Lisette she chooses to share is enough. We've got the rest of our lives to work things out.
Twenty minutes later, we approached the northern reaches of Tel Aviv. "See the tower?" said the pilot. "That marks the southern end of the runway." He laughed, "Don't worry its 200 meters off the threshold."
"Make's the VFR approach a little easier, doesn't it?" I was familiar with the 500-foot tall smokestack. Israel is a small country, and sometimes things get crammed together, resulting in interesting juxtapositions.
"Yes. Did you know, every flight over Israel, even VFR, requires clearances by the air traffic controllers? All airspace belongs to the air force. They command absolute priority. When you live in a country surrounded by enemies, security always comes first."
"Yeah, I heard about that."
* * *
"Ah, there is your ride," said the pilot as he shut down the engine. A pale blue Volkswagen bug sat on the tarmac. A woman stood beside the vehicle.
"Wow!" said Jack. "Is that the babe you told me about?"
"Sure is." Tamara leaned nonchalantly against the front fender of the VW. This time not in uniform, instead she was dressed to kill: a bright yellow skintight almost too-short skirt, a tie-dyed tee shirt that left little to the imagination, and an Uzi slung over her shoulder.
"Enjoy yourselves in Israel," said the pilot followed by a worldly chuckle.
She smiled as we strutted across the tarmac and stepped out to meet us, her attire even more stunning close-up. I wondered if we were going straight to the beach hotel. A vision of Tamara in a bikini flashed through my mind and I almost tripped.
She looked past us to the Cessna and asked, "He did not come?"
"Sorry, your Latin lover was busy with another woman." I took pity on her hurt puzzled expression. "He's guarding my wife. We had security issues."
"Oh … You trust him with your wife?" She diverted her eyes to Jack.
"This is Jack. Are you out of the army now?"
"No, Major David did not want to attract attention to your arrival. He said I should dress casual and use my own car."
Jack chortled. "Yeah, you're sure not going to attract attention in that outfit."
She arched her eyebrows and gave Jack a mischievous smile. "It is part of my cover," she stepped forward, entwined her free arm with Jack's elbow, and beckoned suggestively, "a lonely girl waiting to meet her lover boy."
Jack flashed the unambiguous grin of male expectation. "Works for me."
"Hey, what happened to your situational awareness?"
"I got the situation under control."
"Where to now?" I asked Tamara. "We going to the hotel first?" The temperature, about seventy, seemed a little cool for a swim in the ocean, maybe it would warm up.
Her answer was curt and direct, "We go to the unit." She gazed up to Jack, her eyes alive with anticipation, "Do you like to dance? I know all the popular discos."
* * *
Tamara ushered us through the security checkpoints of Unit 8200 and down to Major David's office. He was waiting for us with another man — the Mossadnik Jacobs — who sat with a cigarette between his lips and a coffee cup in his right hand.
The major eyed Tamara and spoke sharply in Hebrew. She answered and left the room in a pout. Jacobs let out an uncharacteristic chuckle and parked the mug on the table.
"I told her to dress informal, so she would not attract unnecessary notice." The major shook his head. "She said that was her everyday civilian outfit."
Jack spoke up, "I think it worked, I'm sure nobody noticed us."
The Mossad man gave Jack a cynical smile. "Quiet so." He swiveled and regarded me with a cold calculating gaze. "Bring me up to date on your recent endeavors."
"You don't know?"
Jacobs paused and drew on the cigarette. His face, weathered from a lifetime of exposure to the desert sun, yielded few secrets. "I would like to hear your version."
I briefed him on Raven-One's activities since our last meeting. "…and then we landed here, and she picked us up at the airport." I asked Jack, "Anything to add?"
"No, but I'm still concerned about the security issues that keep popping up. We seem to attract a lot of attention from the other side."
Jacobs bristled. "You are in Israel now. There will be no problems here. As to your earlier troubles, there is a saying: when you encounter flak, it means you're over the target." He paused for another drag on the pungent cigarette. "I must commend you though, you showed good initiative."
"Well we did have some help."
"Yes, that is so." He huffed. "Doesn't it seem that the French are always there when they need you?"
"Yeah, I guess you're right. What's the plan?"
He snuffed out the butt in the empty coffee cup and leaned forward on his elbows.
"In May, Libyan troops attempted to install a SA-9 missile battery near the port of Sidon in Lebanon. The prime minister gave permission to attack the site, and the air force destroyed the installation."
"I remember." I read about it in a classified intelligence summary, the story got short shrift in the media as the Mount Saint Helens eruption dominated the news.
"Now, ten days ago, one of our aerial drones photographed the movement of a small convoy of tracked vehicles over the Syrian border. This deployment coincided with the arrival in Beirut, two weeks ago, of the man who identifies himself as Juan Antonio Machado. Last week he disappeared from our surveillance team in Beirut. We are now attempting to determine if he is with the tracked vehicles."
He had my full attention. "You think this might be another Long Track installation?"
"Yes, it seems our first assumption may have been correct. We now have signals intelligence indicating the Škorpion Brigade is working with Idarat al-Mukhabarat al-Jawiyya, the Syrian Air Force intelligence agency, to emplace surface to air missiles in the southern Beqaa Valley." He paused and nodded to the major.
David said, "A signal intercepted two days ago is similar to the previous intercepts associated with your man Marsden."
"From Mount Hermon?"
"No," said the major. "The intercept came from an unmanned aircraft. The site is near
the foot of Mount Hermon in Lebanon and shielded from our facility on the mountain. Two more intercepts made by our airborne intercept squadron confirmed the location and signal parameters. We have a high level of confidence the unit is a modified Long Track. The air force is flying daily missions trying to attain an intercept of the third harmonic."
I felt a tingle of excitement. We were closing in on Marsden. "He has another unit, in addition to the one destroyed in Chad?"
"It appears so."
"Okay, then why are we here? Obviously, you have a reason."
Jacobs responded, "Plans are underway for military action to neutralize the menace. The air force rightly sees this development as a threat to their air dominance over Lebanon. It will not be tolerated."
Jack asked, "You're sending in an air strike?"
The Mossadnik shook his head. "Oh no, no. Your government does not want us to launch an incursion into Lebanon. They are concerned the Syrians could react with a counter attack and lead to a new crisis. They are also worried how the Soviet's might respond and wish to deal with it in a low-key manner. Action must be on a small scale, a commando raid to take out the specific target. An air strike would prove to be too public in light of our prime minister's scheduled visit to Washington this month. We prefer to handle this matter quietly."
"Count me in," said Jack. "I agree with your approach, in and out, a quick surgical strike, my favorite kind."
Jacobs' eyes narrowed as his brow furrowed. "I am afraid we can accommodate only one outsider in this operation."
I responded, "Well I guess it won't be either one of us."
"I am afraid you have no choice."
"How's that?"
"You are here without the approval of your government, and there is no documentation of your entry into the country."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"It means, if you do not agree to our terms, you will not be allowed to leave Israel until the end of the operation."
"Jacobs, you're a real bastard."
"Ah yes, but not by accident of birth, I can assure you, it is a title I have earned by hard work."
"Yeah, I can tell. The answer's still the same. We go as a team or not at all. And that's final, if you don't like it, you can stick it where the sun don't shine."
Major David tried to intervene but was waved off by Jacobs. "We have plenty of sunshine in Israel, Mr. Brannan. Why don't we agree to disagree and let the military commander of the operation decide?"
I glanced at Jack and he nodded. "Okay, we'll see what he has to say, but no promises. Can you tell us where we're going?"
"First to Palmachim, a base south of Tel Aviv. There you will meet the team commander from Unit 5101, Yehidat Shaldag, an elite air force unit. They will be the operational unit for the raid."
Jack asked, "Why Shaldag? I thought Sayeret Matkal was your top Special Forces unit."
"They are air force commandos. This operation more closely meets their specialty. You might say the right solution for the problem."
We spent the rest of the morning in the analysis section reviewing recent tapes from the aerial intercepts. They were right. Marsden was back in business. I decided to make it a going out of business sale.
* * *
Unit 5101, or Shaldag, specializes in deep penetration operations into enemy territory. The commander introduced only as Ari, a short lean man in his late twenties with the bearing and confidence of a natural leader, let us know right up front he was a no-nonsense guy.
"I will take only one of you on the mission. Brannan, you are the designated expert and will accompany the team to identify the persons and equipment at the target." He shot a quick glance to Jack. "I am sorry, but you cannot be part of the incursion."
"No, we're both going," I said, trying to sound forceful. "It's both of us or none."
His reply was sharp. "We cannot take two of you, only one person, the expert package, is sufficient. We have the training and experience—"
"No — Jack here is as capable as any of your people, maybe even better."
Ari stayed composed and unmoved. "You have not trained with us, and we do not know your capabilities. It is enough to keep an eye on one extra person, but on such a small mission, two is too many. I will not allow it. That is final."
I started to reply, but Jack spoke first. "It's okay. I understand where you're coming from. I would have made the same decision. It's not a matter of how good you are. It's about confidence." He twisted his head to me. "These guys develop a high level of trust and work as a team. We don't need to intrude on that. For them, it's a matter of life and death." He shifted his stare back to Ari. "Am I right?"
"Yes, thank you." He let out a slight grin. "If you wish, you may go with the back-up extraction team, if the leader agrees."
I looked to Jack. "That okay with you?"
"Yeah, I'm good to go."
"What kind of weapon will I carry?" I didn't relish the thought of going in unarmed, besides I had plans of my own.
Ari frowned. "Are you qualified with weapons?"
"Yeah. What you got?"
He still wasn't satisfied. "The mission could be very intense, and it is most likely that blood will be spilled. Can you kill a man if necessary?"
"No problem."
"Have you ever killed a man? It is easy to bluster—"
Jack broke in, "He slaughtered two guys in a knife fight last week. Two members of the group you're after. I've seen him shoot. He won't let you down. He's saved my bacon a couple of times."
Ari smirked. "We go to the range this afternoon. I will decide after I see you shoot."
* * *
At the range, Ari held up a familiar weapon. "Our team members carry the M-21 rifle, a sniper version of the American 7.62, M-14, and a personal handgun, either a 9-millimeter Sig Sauer P226 or a Browning Hi-Power. You may choose a pistol for my evaluation."
Without hesitation, we both chose the Hi-Power. I stood at the line, weapon at my side, and at the signal, performed the Israeli draw, racking the slide on the way up, firing a shot in mid motion, and emptying the magazine on the twenty-yard target.
Ari examined the bull's-eye through a spotting scope. "I would suggest waiting until you are set to fire. Your first round was ten centimeters off the main group."
I ejected the empty magazine, inserted another, and fired off thirteen rounds, changing hands for the final five shots.
"Try again from a supported position, with both hands."
I shot off another magazine from the classic Weaver stance.
"Better, much better. Your point shooting is effective, but I prefer you limit yourself to the most stable position. A firefight is not an exhibition. By the way, we travel locked and loaded, not with an empty chamber … above all, please be aware of the men around you."
Suitably chastened, I repeated the process for another 130 rounds. Jack followed, and Ari nodded in approval.
We each fired three magazines of 7.62 with the rifle from the standing position at one-hundred meters.
Ari was satisfied, but still insisted, "You did very well, but it is best that you carry pistols only." He asked Jack, "You understand?"
Jack nodded. "Sure. What else are you taking along?"
The team will also be armed with M-72, 66-millimeter LAW anti-tank rocket. Are you familiar with this weapon?"
"Yeah, I burned through more than I can count in Lao— ah, Southeast Asia, haven't fired one lately.
I noticed no one carried an Uzi. 'What about your Uzis?"
Ari replied, "We rely on the power of the 7.62, 9-mil is for clean-up."
Jack asked, "What's your rules of engagement for a mission like this?"
"Do not hesitate if you are challenged — shoot first, ask questions later. You will not be second-guessed. Survival is the key." He glared at me. "Do not engage in hand to hand combat … just shoot them. I prefer a dead civilian casualty than to have one of you killed. If that disturbs you, remember why we are here. We kn
ow every day is a war for us. If you have doubts, tell me and you may stay behind."
"No way am I staying, I'm ready when you are." I didn't tell him, I had unfinished business. "What's going to be the primary focus: destroy the equipment or take out the people?"
"We see the human element at the top priority. Sophisticated technology is useless without the ability to utilize it effectively. In short, we kill the operators."
"Are you afraid they might move the site at the last minute?"
"That is always a possibility, but the Syrian's tend to station mobile missiles in one place for an extended time. This is counter to standard Soviet doctrine that emphasizes maneuver, camouflage, and the emplacement of dummy sites."
"Will you use ECM to mask the raid?"
"No, the Air Force is not keen to disrupt the Syrian air defense because they do not wish to exhibit capabilities that may be needed in a future encounter. The battle for supremacy of the electromagnetic spectrum, what was at one time a sideshow, is now a major element, a necessity to ensure air superiority. We must be prudent in its use."
"Yeah, I understand. That's what my unit is all about."
"We will employ four elements of our special forces for this operation. First, Shaldag Unit 5101 will conduct the primary assault. Unit 669, the airborne rescue and evacuation unit will be on standby for emergency extraction, which may be necessary. The unmanned aerial vehicle squadron will dispatch Oriole drones over the target in advance of the operation and maintain them on station until we return. Unit 555, the Sky Crows, will monitor the electromagnetic spectrum to insure we have no surprises from the Syrians, and air support in the form of F-16 fighters' is only minutes away."
* * *
We spent the rest of the day and all the next two days training with Unit 5101, simulating assault landings from Huey helicopters and walk-through live fire sessions at the range. At midnight, we set off for the north and made a nighttime practice assault on a vehicle parked on the perimeter of Ramat David Air Force Base, our intermediate staging point.
40 ~ The Raid
Monday, 10 November 1980, Ramat David Air Base
