New Heavens

by Boris Senior

  They looked like Fiat G-55s (later on we learned they were in fact Italian Macchi 205s), similar in appearance and performance to our Spitfires. They were flying too close a formation for aircraft on a combat mission so I presumed they were on a training flight.

  Fortunately, we had the advantage of height and surprise. They did not see us until we got close to them, well above and behind. When I got close and had my adversary in my gun sight, I saw him start a turn to port, still oblivious of our presence. It turned into a classic dogfight with each of us trying to outturn his prey. I did not call to Sid again, but I caught a glimpse of him below me turning steeply as he got on the tail of his prey. It was clear no one at the large El Arish base below suspected us, thinking we were Egyptian fighters in the circuit.

  As I prepared to fire, I was so surprised they were taking no evasive action I suspected that this was a trap and that they had protective cover above them. I hesitated for a few seconds to check behind me and, with my guns cocked and breathing heavily, saw them begin evasive action by increasing their rate of turn. I got on to the tail of my target and saw Sid doing the same below me. A number of steep turns with the sky and then the sea in turn filling the windscreen. My target panicked and went into a steep, wheeling dive to the southeast. That is the worst thing he could have done, for I was able to stay on his tail while retaining my advantage of height and speed.

  He twisted and turned violently, and I followed his every maneuver. It was clear he badly lacked air-combat experience. The pilot of the lead aircraft seemed less agitated, but he, too, seemed not to know how to protect himself from the attack. I waited for them to change their direction in a turn from one side to the other to make it possible to catch them momentarily in level flight and to fire without needing a deflection angle. I pressed the firing button on my stick in two long bursts at very close range while I was right behind him as he changed direction in one panicky turn after another. Firing straight ahead, I could not miss. I saw the rounds from my guns hit his starboard wing with small pieces of the wing fly off.

  When a big section of his wing disintegrated, he immediately went into a spin, slowly circling in an erratic path toward the ground far below. I saw no smoke or fire and quickly lost him in the murk below for I pulled up in a steep climbing turn to regain height as his craft hit the ground. There was no sign of a parachute. Being almost in the pattern of El Arish, I broke away sharply in a steep turn to starboard toward the sea. I saw no anti-aircraft fire.

  I was subsequently credited with the kill and as I write this I can see the framed certificate on the wall above me. Sid received credit for the other Fiat as we reported them then.

  THE LAST FIGHT

  The day of 7 January 1949 was the last day of aerial battles in the Negev in the war and a memorable one for 101 Squadron. Our first patrol was to the southern Negev and Sinai in the early morning, with two of our Spitfires running into a flight of four unidentified fighters flying in our air space in the Negev. After a short battle, two of the enemy craft were shot down. After ours returned, a warning came through to the squadron that there were many fighters near our front lines, and we were ordered to send two aircraft out on patrol. We were puzzled that the warning given described the enemy fighters as “Bevin’s Lemons,” meaning RAF fighters. (Bevan was the foreign minister of Britain and was known to be a severe critic of Israel.)

  I was on the second sweep, leading in a P-51, with Jack Doyle as my number two. Jack was a Mahal from Canada but retained his Irish brogue when excited or stressed. The Israeli troops, having routed the main body of Egyptian forces in the Negev, were in full cry as they advanced along the highway leading from the oasis of Abu Ageila just inside the Egyptian border toward Rafah near the coast. We patrolled above our armor, which was advancing along this important axis in the same area, where some days before I had removed the sole Egyptian Spitfire from among the dummy fighters on the El Arish satellite field.

  Patrolling from Abu Ageila toward the Mediterranean, I spotted six fighters that looked like Spitfires flying far below us low on the deck above our advancing vehicles. I shouted to Jack but there was no acknowledgment. The road below was in use by our advancing forces, and the traffic was heavy. Some troop carriers, a few tanks, and artillery transporters were all moving as fast as possible toward the Egyptian forces fighting rearguard actions farther to the west. Clearly, the flight of six fighters was not ours, and I had no doubt that they were Egyptian.

  After scanning the sky above for some kind of escort, without waiting for an answer from Jack, I dived down out of the sun toward them, throttling back to the minimum to get down to the very low level of the enemy aircraft. With my advantage of height and the element of surprise, I headed for the enemy while trying to keep my speed up for an intended zoom upward after firing.

  I got down well behind them, and when I realized that they had not seen me, I pushed the throttle forward and came at them from the same level, but at a much higher speed. They were low above our armor in line-astern formation: three pairs flying in a westerly direction toward Rafah. I was right behind and above them, and I selected the “Tail-End Charlie” on the left side for my burst of fire.

  As I got down low, I saw him ahead of me in my gun sight. I shouted once to Jack but did not have time to see where he was, and I approached them out of the low sun in the east. As I completed my dive, I was right behind the enemy fighters at their level, but because of my dive at high speed, I had only split seconds for maneuvering. I closed in and fired one long burst. As I pulled up to the left in a steep climbing turn, I saw through my canopy dark brown smoke pouring from my victim. Surprisingly, he didn’t appear to change his course. The rest of the flight seemed not to notice anything. They must have been concentrating on the action on the ground directly below.

  As I pulled up I called Jack, asking, “Where are you?” There was an immediate answer in a very Irish brogue, “Right with you, boy.” I looked everywhere but Jack was nowhere to be seen. Now I felt that I was in trouble, for I was not willing to take on the five remaining Egyptians on my own. I lost sight of them in the early morning haze and returned to base in Hatzor.

  After landing I went to the operations room and reported the engagement, claiming one probable because I did not see him actually crash into the ground. I reported the enemy as Spitfires because Freddie Fredkins, former group captain in the RAF directing us from the ground on the southern front, had reported them as “Bevin’s Lemons,” indicating that they were RAF. I met Freddie a short while after the engagement, and his description of the engagement compared closely with mine

  From intelligence reports a long time afterward, we were told that the aircraft we ran into were, in fact, Egyptian Macchis. In the ops room after landing, I learned the six aircraft we surprised were Royal Air Force Spitfires. Whatever the final identity of the one I shot down, I hope it was not an RAF Spitfire, though they had no business being over our front lines at the time and therefore deserved what they got. I find it difficult to believe that the RAF was actively involved in the fighting on the side of the Arabs as some claim to this day. I know they helped with refueling, landing facilities, and supplies. I presume they passed on information from photo-reconnaissance missions as well.

  The rest of 7 January was a busy day for 101. After the first two engagements, the next sweep consisted of two of ours, against eight enemy aircraft. One of our airplanes was flown by South African Arnie Ruch. Though there was an engagement, there was no claim of Egyptians shot down. There was a final sweep in the afternoon with our four Spitfires. The pilots who took part included Ezer and Bill Schroeder, the latter shooting down one of the British planes, which was later certified as a Tempest.

  This great effort of putting up a flight of four fighters, never before equaled in a fighter patrol of ours, had brought our Spitfires up against twelve RAF fighters. Our pilots, with inferior equipment to that of the British (they had Spit XIXs whereas ours were old Mark IXs), knocked down a
nother two, one of which was a Tempest making a total on 7 January of five RAF fighters shot down with no loss to us. Someone, I believe from 101, sent a telegram to the House of Commons in London, saying, “Sorry chaps, but you were on the wrong side of the fence this time!”

  After these engagements with the RAF fighters, there was tension for a few weeks. The British aircraft were from the British Suez Canal bases and had a cozy relationship with the Egyptian Air Force. They had no right to have been where they were, and we were not happy about their incursions into the air space above our troops. On their side there was bitterness and loss of face for the way they had been trounced by what was for them an upstart air force. There were even fears that we were about to be embroiled in an Israeli-British war. However, the tension gradually passed and there were no more incursions by the Royal Air Force into Israeli territory. I believe that our success in shooting down four RAF Spitfires and one Tempest without any loss to ourselves must be attributed largely to the fact that we were battle-hardened fighter pilots with experience from World War II and because we were flying tough combat flights daily, whereas the RAF pilots were from the Suez Canal Zone with no recent operational time.

  That evening, most of the pilots gathered at the Park Hotel in Tel Aviv for a huge party. Everyone was drinking, singing, and dancing until the early hours of the morning. The South Africans entertained everyone with a Zulu war dance, and all had a great time. It was a fine way for us to relax and unwind from the tension of the final days of the war. No one in the hotel this time minded the high spirits of the 101 Squadron pilots in their red-peaked caps.

  After all, scarcely eight months before, the Israel Air Force had barely existed and had not possessed a single fighter aircraft. Yet by 1 January 1949, Israeli fighter planes, though outnumbered by as much as three to one, had emerged victorious in the battles with the invading air forces and had shot down the more-advanced fighters of the RAF without any loss to themselves. This was an event we deserved to celebrate and a fitting final victory for Israel in its first war for survival.

  Epilogue

  AFTER the end of hostilities in early 1949 the foreign pilots who were my squadron comrades returned to their own countries. When they left I sometimes felt they were abandoning us in Israel. There was still so much to do. For me, acutely aware of our history throughout the ages, culminating in the Holocaust and the War of Independence, there was no choice. I felt I had to make my home in Israel to build up and strengthen this final haven for Jews at any time in the future. I have lived in Israel ever since.

  Many of the volunteers who bore the brunt of the fighting in the air have from time to time reappeared for a squadron reunion or for a remembrance ceremony for pilots who fell in the war. We have kept in touch, despite the difficulties in sustaining the friendship cemented so firmly in 1948. Abroad in certain centers that supplied a large number of Mahalniks such as Los Angeles, Johannesburg, and London, ex-Mahal organizations have formed and meet occasionally. These meetings have served also to attend to the problems of families abroad after their loved ones were killed during the hostilities in Israel.

  Others like me chose to remain in Israel and to make it our home. I have lived most of the time since the War of Independence of 1948 in the lovely village of Kfar Shmaryahu where 101 Squadron was born and from where its first battles were fought. Although I am the only former 101 Squadron pilot who lives here, there are Mahalniks of other units who have made their homes in this village. Other Mahalniks settled in various parts of Israel. All my five children are Sabras, born in Israel.

  After the war I went to visit my family in South Africa. Within a few days, police officers appeared at our home and impounded my passport. No reason was given, but I cannot say that the South African government was at fault. Apart from my Irgun activities in England, two years before, my landing in Greece during Operation Velveta caused some diplomatic unpleasantness for South Africa. Moreover, South Africa was still part of the British Commonwealth at the time of the Israeli air battles with the Royal Air Force on 7 January 1949.

  Without a passport there seemed no way for me to get back to Israel. But Universal Airways, the company I had formed a year before, agreed to take me on the next flight to Israel if I somehow got on the aircraft. Fortunately, they had a flight to Israel on Christmas Eve, and I boarded the plane at night during the festivities. After takeoff, the captain put me on the crew list to avoid problems on the way, and I returned to Israel. The impounding of my passport prevented me thereafter from again visiting the country of my birth for more than eight years. I was not allowed to enter the United Kingdom, either, for the same period.

  After my return from South Africa, I was asked to set up a new air defense command because Prime Minister Ben Gurion was particularly concerned about the inadequate protection for the cities in case of enemy raids. The units were to include fighter-interceptors, anti-aircraft artillery, and a satisfactory early warning system based on radar. It meant starting more or less from scratch, and we set up a countrywide observer corps and a communications network. I relied to a great extent on what I knew of the air-defense system that operated in England during World War II and included also a unit of barrage balloons stationed near important targets. It was a major task, which I am proud to say we accomplished in record time, providing Israel with an adequate air-defense system.

  Afterward, there was a period of some months during which we wrestled with the thorny problem of where to place this large group of units from various branches of the services. After obtaining information about how the problem was solved in other countries, and after paying a visit to the Swiss Air Defense Command, we incorporated the air defense command into the air force, which I rejoined as assistant chief of the air force. I retired from active service in 1952 with the rank of colonel.

  A few months after completing this book, I was advised to contact the association of former crews of the outstanding PBY Catalina flying boat. I doubted I would make contact with the crew member who dived into the freezing Adriatic under heavy fire to rescue me so long ago. I wrote that though I was barely conscious at the time, his name remained indelibly in my memory for all these years. All I remembered was that he was an American and his name was Al Feliksa. I was dumbfounded when within a few days a reply came giving me his present address. I spoke to him on the telephone, and he told me he remembered the raid and my rescue. He was thrilled to hear from me.

  Through the fog of my memory of forty-five years ago, I saw him as a tall, slim young man some two or three years older than me. The Catalina Association arranged for us to meet by a Catalina, and it was not surprising for me to discover he was a fine, caring American. I faced a quiet, much older American engineer, with no resemblance to the dashing young man who dived into the water. My emotions welled up, virtually preventing me from speaking. We discussed the rescue, which was carried out under heavy fire. I learned also that he was wounded during the operation. Now, Al uses his spare time to provide foodstuffs to destitute American families from surpluses in large chain stores. He had spent most of his life with General Motors and now lives in retirement in Michigan.

  The reunion was hosted by the chief of the Canadian Air Force, and in my after-dinner speech, I made it clear that in my opinion Al and his fellow airmen are what is called in the Bible “the salt of the earth.” As I told him, I have more than one reason to be an unabashed protagonist of the United States.

  The meeting with Al after all these years has, together with the recording of the story of this book, brought my life full circle.

  AFTERTHOUGHTS

  The struggle for the rebirth of Israel and the “ingathering of the exiles” is unique in human history. I have tried to capture the spirit of the time and to give a picture of some of the events of that tumultuous period so important for the Jewish people and for Israel.

  The War of Independence of 1948 was the climax of the struggle to return to their ancient homeland after 2,000 years of exile. Beca
use of my involvement in that struggle, this tale is largely about the war in the air. It also focuses attention on the efforts of the Mahal overseas volunteers in achieving final victory. It was not only the deeds they achieved in that bitter war but also the living proof to the people of Israel that those in the Diaspora stand by them.

  Furthermore, it may make it easier for our Muslim neighbors, our erstwhile enemies, to understand something of what has driven us to return to our ancient homeland.

  The wars between Israel and the Arabs have been a bitter struggle between two just causes for one territory, and it is a matter of deep regret that fate and history have made us enemies on so many battlefields. Also, since the Six-Day War of 1967, a great number of Arabs have come under our rule in the conquered territories. I believe that we cannot for long continue to rule over people who oppose our reign. Not all Israelis are sufficiently aware that for the Arabs, their struggle is for a state of their own just as ours was. It is incumbent upon us to make peace at the price that must be paid, and to do it now while we are still strong, not in the future when Israel’s strategic position may be less favorable than it is today.

  After we have a final peace with all our Muslim neighbors, there will be no reason for us to fear the future, for if we look back into history, the Jews have throughout the ages invariably lived with less harassment in the Arab countries than in the West. There is no reason not to expect an enduring peace that will be to our mutual advantage. I believe that, despite the long exposure of Israelis to the culture and lifestyle of the West, we will get on well with our neighbors when peace is finally achieved.