Sword of David

Between my early morning penetration of the Golan battle zone and takeoff for my second mission of the day, it had become clear that losses were far in excess of what we had ever conceived. The Syrian SAM and gun belt were holding, our ground-based armoured counter-attack was probably still a day away and our existing ECM and air-to-ground tactics were not working as they normally did. Little did I know that mine would be one of the last missions over Golan that day as air support was virtually withdrawn for several hours in an effort to rethink tactics and apply some quick ‘fixes’ to our machinery.

In this mission there were five Skyhawks, we would approach from just below the Lebanese border at ground level with the aircraft in full military all the way. Mirages and Phantoms were providing routine top cover air patrols but in retrospect, this was hardly needed as most of the Syrian Air Force (SAF) were staying clear of their own deadly SAM belts and at this stage were largely flying hit-and-run strikes at Israeli targets already largely overrun. Entering from the North had its problems as we would be in view of the Syrians who had just taken our strategic outposts on Mt Hermon, still, it provided a clean ingress and allowed us to hit much of the Syrian armour from behind as we flew across the Heights and down the slopes back into the safety of the Huleh Valley. At least that was the game plan.

I was the fifth A-4 as we saw our valley of targets, tanks by the dozens, which appeared to be static and hemmed in by one of our few remaining tank units firmly entrenched along a ridge on the main Golan roadway. We would have to climb to several hundred feet to release our bombs, in doing so placing ourselves at the mercy of the defences. There was no choice though, and already I could see that this mission was going to be much more difficult than the first. One, two, three, the lead aircraft released their weapons, then number four, just a few hundred metres in front of me, virtually disintegrated as a SAM-6 and ZSU cannon found their mark. I rolled the aircraft and unloaded, at least knowing that most of the bombs would find their marks. The A-4 is a great aircraft, small and extremely agile and thankfully tough, you could do many things in this pocket-sized warrior that would mean death in a larger, more sophisticated aircraft such as the F-4. Already my manoeuver had placed me on a different heading to the first three aircraft in our unit as I hugged the valley floor for cover; you could see the SAMs’ white flashes as at least two were launched at me, only flying at this speed, now around 500 kts, and at around twenty or thirty metres, was saving me.

Fortunately we all knew the terrain intimately, it was a part of our training to camp up here from time to time and virtually walk the entire region till you could draw it perfectly like a cartographer. The ridge ahead would have to be taken in a steep climb then a pulldown, where I would invert the aircraft to lessen the negative G and attain a greater sink rate and so remain low. I knew the ridge and the valley that lay beyond was home, I also knew from the smoke and dust drifting up from beyond the ridge that there was an engagement taking place. More SAMs, more cannons, not home yet!

It was then with amazement as I was gritting myself for aiming the A-4 at the steep incline that a lone SAF MiG-19 climbed over the top from the opposite direction and in such a placement that he had not seen me.

Ground support was okay as a trade, and vital for the defence of our territory but since my days on the Mirage III had always preferred the challenge of straight air-to-air combat. Ironically this was my chance for a kill, as despite the menacing SAM presence beyond the ridge I knew the MiG was running out of energy and a sitting duck as I climbed the A-4 for a perfect six o’clock shot with my twin 30 mm cannons. What had also occurred was that while this MiG-19, the final in a run of four, had been providing air support for Syrian armour beyond the ridge, the SAMs had switched off so as to avoid hitting their own aircraft. The MiG was at a thousand metres or more as I fired, he was slow and my cannon shells virtually tore the fuselage apart as the aircraft gracefully rolled over and departed a wing. There was no chute.

Hiding my exhilaration for knowing that every SAM and ZSU or roving MiG in the area would now be active I rolled the A-4 down back to the safety of the weeds. It was short-lived though, as within what seemed ten seconds I heard a loud explosion, the aircraft vibrated greatly as I took a hit from what later turned out to be a shoulder-launched SAM-7 Strella SAM. My gauges indicated falling RPM; with still three hundred knots on deck I was able to just scrape over the last Syrian tank position before pulling the aircraft up high enough to eject. By now my fire lights had come on and the engine was surging uncontrollably, my instruments had died and it was time to go. Ejection was clean and relatively gentle as the climb had bled off much of my airspeed. Ejection has its problems though and my price for survival that way was two compressed vertebrae, a classic ejection injury but one that would see me grounded for the next five months.

We had lost one of our own, I had got my MiG and apparently, our strike had helped slow the relentless march of the Syrian armour in that particular area long enough for our counterattack to begin.

January 11, 1970 Mikoyan MiG-21 Fishbed J

Dassault Mirage III C Mikoyan Mig-21 Fishbed J

Since the massive losses suffered by the Egyptian armed forces, and in particular their Air Force (EAF) during the 1967 Six-Day War, President Nasser of Egypt had set about conducting what was later to be known as the War of Attrition. They would provide constant artillery barrages over to the Bar Lev Line, which was under construction along the Eastern shores of the Suez Canal while in response we would use our own artillery and our Air Force to strike back. It was classic meatgrinder tactics and without us realising it at the time, ushered in the age of electronic warfare as an indispensable partner in the battlefield.

Through this period of roughly nineteen months there were numerous EAF incursions of our airspace over the Eastern Canal region. Usually, a number of EAF MiGs would penetrate at altitude while a reconnaissance mission photographed the growing fortifications of the Bar Lev line. Rather than meet us head on the high-flying MiGs would turn and run out on afterburner in a gentle dive once their Ground Controlled Intercept (GCI) people had picked us up on radar. This was typical Soviet-style tactics. The Soviets, and their allies, or clients as the case may be, rely wholly upon GCI for air combat. Over North Vietnam for instance, the Americans operated in concert with an AWACS aircraft, an old derivative of the Super Constellation designated the EC-121, to provide US fighters with warning of a MiG attack so as to be able to get the US fighters positioned to advantage as the MiGs climbed from their bases. This worked fairly well and today it is a facet of air warfare neglected only by the foolhardy.

The Soviet system however relies solely upon GCI which equates to a controller in a radar/communications room directing the fighters from afar. The GCI even tells the client fighter when to drop his tanks, when to go to the afterburner etc. As most Soviet tactics, particularly with the MiG-21, are to make one high-speed pass, fire a missile or gun and depart, this system has some merit. Unfortunately for Ivan and fortunately for us things rarely go so clean in air-to-air combat! I believe the single most important break we have over the Soviet system as a whole is that Western pilots are trained to operate in both teams, with wingmen, and also as individuals who can make their own split second decisions and employ a wide variety of air combat manoeuvres designed around the particular tactical abilities of their own aircraft.

This level of training certainly worked for us on the afternoon of January 11, 1970.

The MiGs had been running their usual penetrations, providing us with plenty of scrambles from our Sinai bases, though in few cases enabling us long enough time to make the intercept. So tactics had to change from mere response to one of baiting the enemy. Classic tactics and proven long before in wars as far back as those early air battles so fiercely contested above the trenches of Flanders and the Somme.

Our plan was simple in the extreme. A single F-4E Phantom would make a high-altitude pass down the Canal, its ECM jammer ablaze to confuse and jam the SAM-2 belts below. This aircraft would be the meat and we would be the sandwich for the MiGs that we hoped would be launched against this lone aircraft. Upon luring the MiGs up, the Phantom would switch off its jammers and head Eastward slow enough to give the GCI people enough rope to hang themselves with!

While this was happening we would have two formations of two Mirage IIICs flying beyond visual range of the Canal and at very low altitude. The plan would be that while the EAF MiGs pursued the lone F-4E we would climb and cut off their return. Timing was crucial though, as it always is. Our Mirages carried the large long-range drop tanks but at low altitudes, even these gave us a relatively short time in which to set our trap, climb and engage the enemy and return safely to base a hundred kilometres Eastwards.

The ruse worked though and on came five MiGs. Our radar identified them as 21s and they were climbing across the Canal assuredly in chase of our Phantom which could at any time go to afterburner, lower its nose and say goodbye to its pursuers. With the MiGs now twenty kilometres inside our territory the Phantom began its escape and we lit our burners, unloaded our tanks and pointed our Mirages skywards. At climb initiation, we were roughly twenty-five kilometres West of our prey and twenty-thousand feet below them. The other two Mirages were a little too far to the North and would not make an intercept till at least two minutes astern of us. While this left the two of us to fight five MiGs it would at least enable the second flight the opportunity of being vectored further West to provide a second trap in the event that the MiGs escaped us.

As the Mirage passed through eighteen thousand and I saw five steady dots on the Cyrano scope I knew that the trap had worked and couldn’t help imagining the panic now taking over in the mind of the land-based controller as he watched his MiGs being intercepted from behind over enemy territory.

A moment later the MiGs broke, three to the South and two to the North, all rolling out and diving for speed; they knew they were not alone and air combat was inevitable. The three MiGs were on our track, we had reached twenty-five thousand and were now positioned to dive and turn in a classic manoeuvre that would place us just astern of the fleeing MiGs. Our armament consisted of two Rafeal Shafrir Infrared (IR) AAMs and our usual twin 30 mm cannons. The MiGs appeared to be armed with two Soviet Atoll IR AAMs and a single 23 mm rotary cannon. They were in no mood for dog-fighting though as their GCI had obviously given them explicit orders to run for it at best speed. Ironically they didn’t dive to gain additional speed and so at a range of only a few kilometres I fired off a Shafrir, along with my wingman; both missiles tracked beautifully and the two MiGs exploded with red flashes as the missiles impacted their jetpipes. If I was amazed at how easy it was I wasn’t all that prepared when at that precise moment the surviving 21 rolled into a diving turn which would have theoretically placed it astern and below us in an ideal position to fire its Atoll AAMs.

I rolled the Mirage to follow and being astern to begin with and a little faster I was able to get a cannon shot as the shiny MiG passed through eight thousand feet and now within sight of the relative safety of the Canal Zone. My cannon shells had found their mark though and I saw little bits of wing trailing edge fall away as the MiG entered a spin. The pilot ejected and I noticed what must have been an EAF rescue helo heading towards his area when our own people warned of MiG activity approaching from the Canal. With most of my cannon rounds expended, only one Shafrir left and my wingman comfortably in view we lit the burner and took our Mirages home.

The mission was a brilliant success as the second flight of Mirages had also made contact with the two remaining MiGs and had also got both for no loss to themselves. What really surprised me though was that we were able to duplicate this basic scenario on several more occasions before a ceasefire was signed in the August of that year.

This Series will be continued in the next edition of Australian Aviation.

Editor’s Note: As the region of operation of the Israeli Defence Force is still considered a militarily hostile environment certain sensitive facts relating to specific dates and equipment operation modes have been slightly altered to preserve security. Similarly, crew names and ranks are not given nqr individual aircraft call signs for the appropriate mission.