successful.
Late that afternoon, the adjutant arrived with the only Mercedes he could find. It was a white diesel model that coughed and sputtered like an asthmatic horse.
"We can't use that wreck," Zvi said. "Even if we paint it, that damn knocking motor will give us away before we start."
"Listen," Yoni suggested, "why not let Gilbert try to give it an overhaul? He's not too old to fix motors."
"Thanks, sweetheart," Jason said sardonically. "Get me
some tools and I'll make that thing as quiet as the fanciest limousine."
He sweated all evening and through the night tuning the ancient vehicle. Then he supervised some of the other commandos spraying it black. But it still needed some spare parts, a list of which he gave to Yoni.
"Do you expect -us to send to Germany for this stuff?" the younger officer asked.
"I expect quicker thinking than that from a Harvard man,
-Jason retorted. "Find some Mercedes taxis and steal the parts." - -
Yoni smiled and went off to select the most likely car thieves- among his -men. -
On Friday the unit held a full dress rehearsal in their
model of the old terminal, it took sixty-seven minutes by the stopwatch, to go from imaginary touchdown to evacuation and takeoff.
"Not good enough," Yoni said to his weary soldiers. "If we don't get this down to under an hour, we don't move."
They took a break for a dinner of C-rations and ran through it again. This time it was 59:30.
After the exercise Yoni gathered his men and made a short announcement. -
"The terrorists' ultimatum expires tomorrow evening.
That's when they say they'll start -shooting the hostages. We've got to get there before it happens. The trouble is, the cabinet won't be voting on our plan till tomorrow morning. So we've got to start the operation and hope they'll radio us to go ahead. Obviously, nobody leaves the base. All the phone lines have been cut. Now try to get some sleep."
The young soldiers disbanded and started toward the
adjoining room where they had their sleeping bags. Only Jason
remained to speak to Yoni.
"Thanks for your help," Yoni said, "I'm really glad you
- came along."
"But why aren't you letting me onto the plane?"
"Look," Yoni said quietly. "The -average age of these boys
is about twenty-three. You're almost forty. Even the greatest athletes slow down by then. They lose that crucial split second of reaction time."
"But I can hold my own, Yoni. I know it. I want to go, even if it's just to service the motors."
"Look, saba, this is too serious to let emotions creep in. You're staying here. And that's final."
Jason nodded silently and left the room. He walked out of
the Sayaret building and, benefiting from years of experience at eluding detection, slipped by the guards and disappeared
- into the night.
Operation Thunderbolt began just after noon on Saturday, July 3.
First the medical equipment was loaded. Then the military vehicles. Then the black Mercedes. Finally, the men clambered aboard for the five-thousand-mile rescue mission that could not afford to be less than perfect.
Four Hercules "Hippos" lumbered down the runway and into the air heading south. Their plan was to stop for final refueling at Sharm El-Sheikh, the southernmost point of Israeli territory. That would give them maximum possible range.
The pilots' cardinal objectives were to avoid detection by Arab radar and take extraordinary measures to conServe fuel. For the latter purpose they flew so low that the gusts from the desert shook the planes ceaselessly. And when they landed in Sharm El-Sheikh, after only a half-hour in the air, some of the assault force were overwhelmed by air sickness. -One man had even fainted.
The minute they hit the airport runway and began to taxi, Yoni ordered the doctors to do something about the men whose stomachs had failed before their courage had been tested. - One of the medics shook his head and murmured, "We should have given out Dramamine pills. That was an oversight." Let's hope it's our only one, Yoni thought as he leapt
from the aircraft onto the tarmac to confer with Zvi, who was
riding in the second plane. At that very moment, the cabinet
- was meeting to decide whether to give them the green light. Zvi also had sick men in his aircraft.
"I think we're going to have to leave Yoav here in Sharm,"
he said. "He's much too ill." -
"What was his assignment?" Zvi asked.
"He was supposed to drive the Mercedes," said a voice that belonged to neither of them.
And from behind the huge wheels of the C-130 Jason Gilbert appeared wearing a belt of hand grenades, his Kaletchnikov strapped to his shoulder.
"Saba, what the hell!" Zvi snapped.
"Listen," Jason said with quiet urgency, "I've been
driving all night. You shouldn't have left me behind in the first place. Now you've got to take me." -
Yoni and Zvi exchanged glances. The older man made an instant decision. -
"Take Yoav off. Get on board, Jason."
At 1530 hours they took off from Sharm El-Sheikh, heading straight down the middle of the Red Sea between Egypt and Saudi Arabia.
Below them they spied Russian naval vessels-doubtless
equipped with radar. The four planes descended practically to sea level, acting more like flying fish than aircraft.
A quarter of an hour later, a simple message came through on their radio. -
"All systems are go. We're now cutting all radio contact. Call us when you're on your way home."
Yoni walked out of -the cockpit and said quietly to the
men, "The operation's on. We've got seven hours to pass the time and then forty-five minutes to do the best we've ever done. Check your gear and try to get some sleep."
One member of the assault force, dressed in an elaborate military costume to masquerade as Idi Amin, handed Jason a tube of deep brown stage makeup.
"Here, saba. If you're supposed to be my driver you've got to look the part. Smear it in your hair, too. I don't think there are any blond Ugandans."
Jason nodded and took the greasepaint.
"This is the hardest part," said his comrade, "the waiting, I mean."
"I'm used to it. I once sat outdoors for three days and nights staking out a PLO big shot."
"Yes, but how far were you from the Israeli border?" the young man asked. "About eight miles."
"This is a thousand times as far."
"1 didn't say I wasn't scared," Jason said. "Want a paperback?" the commando asked. "What have you got?"
"I can lend you The Guns of Navarone
"You're kidding." He laughed. "At this point you're better off reading the Bible."
"No, saba, right now this is more inspirational." Jason sighed and reached into his breast pocket. "What are you doing?" the young soldier asked. "Just looking at some pictures."
"Of the airport?"
"No. My family."
Six and a half hours later they were over Kenya, flying in the darkness. In a few minutes more they would be over Lake
Victoria and descending toward Entebbe airport. Zero hour was approaching.
Yoni walked around the plane, checking the readiness of
his men. He stopped and peeked through the Mercedes window, where a blackfaced Jason was checking his pistol. He looked up as his friend approached. "I'm gonna make sure nobody takes my parking spot," Jason smiled. "Are your boys nervous?"
"No more than you," answered Yoni, "or me. Good luck, saba. Let's do the job, huh?"
The timing thus far had been perfect. The first aircraft arrived just as a scheduled British cargo flight was radioing the Entebbe control tower for permission to land. The lead Hercules followed right on the limey's tail and touched
ground scarcely a hundred yards behind it. At first they headed toward the new terminal, then casually swung left, dropping mobile landing lights so the three other aircraft could easily follow. So far, no one had noticed them. They taxied to a dark corner of the field and began to disembark. A dozen commandos jumped out and quickly set up a ramp for Jason's Mercedes. It purred as he drove it down and started toward the building where the hostages were imprisoned. -
A pair of land rovers with troops followed close behind, within sight of the control -tower. Suddenly two Ugandan soldiers stepped into the road to identify the occupants of the car. Yoni and another commando dropped them both with silencer-pistols.
"We'd better go the rest of the way on foot," Yoni whispered.
They got out of their cars and raced toward the terminal. Seconds later, they broke - into the hall where the hostages were lying on the floor trying to sleep. It was fully lit so that the guards could watch the captives. That also made it easier for the rescuers.
One of the terrorists realized what was happening and
opened fire. He was killed instantly. Two others who had been on the opposite side rushed in, guns blazing.
Frightened by-the sudden noise, some hostages jumped to their feet. A commando with a loudspeaker barked out instructions in Hebrew and English.
"We are the Israeli Army. Get down. Get down."
At this point Jason appeared at the doorway, his gun
drawn. A frightened old woman looked at him and asked, "Are you really our boys?"
"Yes," he snapped. "Get down."
"God must have sent you," she exclaimed and immediately obeyed.
Suddenly Jason noticed a suspicious-looking character trying to move behind the hostages. -
He called out in Hebrew, "Is he one of us?"
A woman who was being used as a shield bravely cried out,
"No, it's one of them." And broke away from her captor's grip.
The terrorist quickly withdrew a grenade and unpinned it. Jason aimed his pistol and fired. As the man fell, the
grenade rolled from his hand. Instinctively Jason was already rushing forward. In a single motion he scooped it up and lobbed it into a corner, where it exploded, harming no one. Yoni was racing through the hall to see if every guard had been eliminated. From outside they could hear fierce gunfire as the other units were battling the Ugandan soldiers.
Yoni grabbed the loudspeaker and called out, "Everybody listen. We've got planes waiting. Start moving as quickly as you can. There are soldiers outside to protect you. We've got
jeeps for anyone who can't walk. Let's go!"
The dazed captives obeyed meekly. Too numb to rejoice, too shocked to believe that they weren't dreaming.
As the evacuation began, Ugandan soldiers were shooting wildly from atop the control tower. Through the wall of commandos who had formed to protect the hostages, Jason carried an aged victim who had been struck in the crossfire.
He reached the plane and hoisted the man to the medics waiting at the door. Then he pulled himself aboard. Doctors were already working on other casualities.
As Jason was helping settle the old man on a mattress, he heard a soldier holding a walkie-talkie blurt out an anguished, "Oh no!"
"What's the matter?" he shouted. -
"lt's Yoni-Yoni's been hit!" -
Jason was electrified. He grabbed a rifle, rushed to the door of the plane, leapt onto the tarmac, and began to run back toward the terminal. In the distance he could see them lifting Yoni onto a stretcher. A hail of bullets was still coming from the control tower.
As soon as he was in range, he stopped and began to return their fire. His only thought was that whoever had shot Yoni had to pay for it. -
From a distance he heard Zvi's voice calling- urgently.
"Gilbert, everyone's on board, we're moving out!"
Heedless, Jason continued shooting. A figure stumbled from the tower. He had hit one of the snipers.
-Zvi shouted again, "Gilbert, get back here. That's an order!"
Still, Jason kept firing in wild anger until his ammunition was exhausted. The roar of the first Hercules
taking off suddenly brought him to his senses. He hurled his rifle to the ground, turned, and began to sprint toward the nearest aircraft.
It was then that the bullet struck him, ripping through his right shoulder blade and into his chest.
He staggered but refused to fall. He would not let his fellow soldiers risk their lives to rescue him. He reached
the door of the plane and th~r pulled him in. When one of the commandos gasped at the sight of his chest, he knew that he was hurt badly. -
But he still didn't feel anything.