The Prime Ministers: An Intimate Narrative of Israeli Leadership (36 page)

“We are looking at three possible options,” answered the general. “One is to launch a seaborne attack on the airport from Lake Victoria; the second is to induce the hijackers to transact an exchange here in Israel, and then jump them; and the third is to drop parachutists over Entebbe.”

There was a silent pause. “Are any of these plans operational?” asked the prime minister, his face cold, hard-pinched. “Can you recommend any one of them to the government?”

“No.”

“In that case,” said Rabin with alacrity, “since the terrorist ultimatum is scheduled to run out at two
p.m.
tomorrow, I intend to propose to the full cabinet that we negotiate with the hijackers for the release of the hostages. We will negotiate through the French. If we are unable to rescue them by force we have no moral right to abandon them. We must exchange them for terrorists held here in our jails in Israel. Our negotiations will be in earnest, not a tactical ruse to gain time. And we will keep our side of any deal we strike.”

“I object,” countered Peres.

“I’m sure you do,” muttered Rabin between his teeth, but this time Peres was not to be silenced.

“We have never agreed in the past to free prisoners who have murdered innocent civilians,” he thundered. “If we give in to the hijackers’ demands and release terrorists, everyone will understand us but no one will respect us. If, on the other hand, we conduct a military operation to free the hostages, it is possible that no one will understand us, but everyone will respect us, depending, of course”
–
this in a whisper
–
“on the outcome of the operation.”

Rabin, glowering, decanted his unrestrained rage: “For God’s sake, Shimon, our problem at this moment is not more of your heroic rhetoric. If you have a better proposal, let’s hear it. What do you suggest? You know as well as I do that the relatives of the hostages are stalking us day and night. They are beside themselves with fear, clamoring for us to make an exchange, and for good reason. What do they say? They say that Israel freed
terrorists
after the Yom Kippur War in exchange for the bodies of dead soldiers, so how can we refuse to free terrorists in exchange for living people, our own people, their loved ones, when their lives are in imminent danger?”

Peres, features frozen, said nothing, and when it came to the vote he raised his hand together with the rest of his morose colleagues to negotiate for the release of the hostages though the auspices of the French government.48

The next morning, with hardly more than a few hours to spare before the executions were to begin, the prime minister reported the facts to the full cabinet which, likewise, voted unanimously to open negotiations through the French. Said Rabin as he brought the meeting to a close, “It has to be understood that the
IDF
will continue to seek a military option, but this in no way detracts from the earnestness of the decision we have just taken to negotiate.”

Then, pale-faced, he strode into an adjacent room, where members of the prestigious Knesset Foreign Affairs and Security Committee (composed primarily of non-ministerial leaders of the major parties, among them Menachem Begin), were waiting to hear his report. “Gentlemen,” he said tensely, “the cabinet has just made the decision to open negotiations with the terrorists to exchange killers in our hands for the Jewish hostages.”

Glances were exchanged as uneasiness and trepidation pervaded the atmosphere. An agonizing argument broke out which Rabin cut short by saying, “We simply have no choice. We have no credible military option. The terrorists’ ultimatum expires in a few hours time, at two o’clock, after which they will begin executing a Jew every half hour.”

“Mr. Prime Minister, may I request a brief interval for consultations with my colleagues?” said Menachem Begin.

Rabin looked at his watch. “Yes, but please be quick. Time is running out. We have yet to relay our position to the French.”

The leader of the opposition rose quickly and departed for an adjacent room, together with a number of his party members. There he said in a voice that rang with the command of one who had lived a life of hard choices, “Who knows better than me what it means to take a stand on a matter of principle? One of my principles is not to negotiate with terrorists. But when Jewish lives are at stake every principle must go by the board. We must rescue our brethren from execution. Therefore, I propose we inform the prime minister that we of the Likud opposition share in the public responsibility for the decision to open negotiations with the terrorists.”

Nobody demurred, and within minutes they were back.

“Mr. Prime Minister,” said Begin with enormous gravitas, “this is not a partisan matter for debate between the coalition and the opposition. It is a national issue of the highest order. We, the opposition, shall support any decision the government adopts to save the lives of Jews. And we shall make our decision known to the public.”

“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?”