Free No Mission Is Impossible by Michael Bar-Zohar, Nissim Mishal Page A

cost him at least ten minutes of fuel, but it had been necessary to confirm the initial identification.
    â€œI confirm ID,” he radioed to ground control.
    â€œYou are authorized to open fire only if you have no doubt whatsoever,” Tolkovsky instructed.
    The moment had arrived to test the maneuver Chatto had attempted earlier. He lowered the landing flaps by a third, thereby preventing a stall.
    â€œFiring,” he announced into the two-way radio, and pressed the trigger.
    Two malfunctions immediately occurred. Someone had loaded the cannons with munitions that included tracing bullets, which, for a moment, blinded him. The second glitch was a blockage in the cannon on the right, which brought about the same effect as an engine breakdown. The Meteor went into a spin, but Chatto regained control and steadied it. Although the Ilyushin had been darkened, he hadn’t lost it, and he could see a flame that flickered from the left-side engine. He reported the hit.
    â€œFinish it off, at any cost,” Tolkovsky’s voice commanded. “I repeat: at any cost!” Chatto knew that if the plane wasn’t brought down right now, Israel would lose the surprise factor during its attack on Egypt the following day.
    The Ilyushin was now flying with one engine, much slower than the Meteor’s landing speed. Firing again—with unequal kickback from the cannons, now that one was blocked—would surely throw the Meteor into a spin. Chatto again lowered the landing flaps, increased the power of the engines, and lurched at the Ilyushin. Suddenly another danger materialized: a collision with the Egyptian plane.
    Chatto put this fear out of his mind and sped toward the Ilyushin. When he came within fifty meters of it, he heard Shibi shout, “Change course! Change course! We’re going to hit it. I see it on both sides of the cockpit.”
    Shibi’s command probably saved them both. At the last second, Chatto squeezed the trigger and suddenly found himself “in the midst of hellfire.”
    His shells exploded into the Ilyushin, barely a few feet from the muzzle of the Meteor’s cannon. Fire engulfed the Egyptian plane, shootingacross it at the same instant that an explosion transformed it into a fireball. Flaming parts flew past the Meteor. The burning Egyptian plane spun and dived—and, because of uneven kickback from its own blocked cannon, so did the Meteor. Both planes plunged. “A fireball and a darkened plane spun one beside the other, and one above the other,” Chatto later wrote, “both out of control, as if performing a sickening, surreal dance.”
    At the last moment, Chatto was able to exit the spin, at an altitude estimated at between 150 and three hundred meters. Simultaneously, he saw the Ilyushin smash and explode into the waves of the Mediterranean.
    Chatto climbed to fifteen thousand feet and reported, “Accomplished!”
    Tolkovsky wanted to be sure. “You saw it crash?”
    â€œAffirmative. It crashed.” Chatto then looked at the fuel gauge and was horrified. “I’m low on fuel—very low. Give me directions to the closest base.”
    He had no idea where he was. The sole radar that located the Meteor was an aircraft battery device on the Hatzor airbase. The battery’s commander took it upon himself to direct “the Bat” to the landing strip.
    â€œI’ll fly in this direction as long as I have fuel,” Chatto radioed.
    â€œYou think you can make it?” The controller’s voice sounded dubious.
    Chatto attempted to keep things light. “I poured the fluid from Shibi’s cigarette lighter into the fuel tank.”
    Tolkovsky cut him off: “No names!”
    The fuel gauge dropped to zero. One minute, two minutes, three . . . Suddenly, Chatto could make out the lights of the Hatzor runway, which had been illuminated for him despite the blackout. The plane glided toward the landing