Yaffe had studied the design and mechanics of the plane for months, but even so, the first time he climbed into the cockpit of the multimillion-dollar, state-of-the-art fighter, he was nearly overwhelmed. The sensation of sitting high in the glass-canopied cockpit, tilted at a 30-degree angle and raised above the lines of the fuselage with nothing but blue sky surrounding him, was stunning. The powerful Pratt & Whitney engine, responding to the lightest touch of the computerized control stick, would literally blast him forward, pinning Yaffe to his seat like a race car driver coming out of the pits. For Yaffe, in fact, it was like being in a brand-new Porsche.
Training under command of the 16th Tactical Fighter Training Squadron was a mix of classroom, tactical flying, debriefing, and instruction that allowed the pilots to grow accustomed to the new aircraft. The course was designed to evolve through a graduated series of training flights and instruction, including intensive training in BFMs, basic flying maneuvers, emphasizing one-on-one dogfights between the pilot and an OT (operational training) instructor; ACMs, air combat maneuvers, learning combat tactics with two bandits against one “good” guy; and ACTs, air combat tactics, concentrating on defensive and offensive maneuvers against a group of bandits. The pilots also flew training exercises in SA, surface attack bombing, and SAT, or surface attack tactics, learning how to use the F-16s’ sophisticated defenses to avoid enemy antiaircraft fire and SAMs while in final approach and targeting—the two most vulnerable stages of a bombing run. Each course began with classroom instruction conducted by lead instructor Gary Michaels and a specialist OTU, then actual flying, each IAF pilot teamed with a personal instructor.
In the classroom the team once again studied the F-16’s weapons, communications, navigation, and mechanical systems, from design specifications to operational capabilities. Since the IAF pilots had already spent months studying the design, theory, and mechanics behind the F-16s, on numerous occasions they were much more informed about the technical aspects of the aircraft than even the instructors. Used to American “kids” just out of college, the USAF instructors were surprised when the Israelis peppered them with technical questions about the plane’s design and performance specifications. Oftentimes the OTUs had to refer the pilots to General Dynamics engineers for answers. To their younger American classmates, mostly in their twenties, the Israelis carried a kind of cachet. Not only were they older, they had all seen combat—with multiple kills. The United States had not been involved in a full-fledged air war for a decade. In general only the veteran instructors like Michaels, who had served in Vietnam, had seen air-to-air combat. Even more than the IAF pilots’ experience, the U.S. instructors were impressed by their thoroughness and their mastery of the aircrafts’ mechanics.
But there were cultural clashes. The IAF culture emphasized pilot initiative and independent judgment. This created an independence and informality that could, on occasion, clash with the American military’s rigid notion of order and protocol. Not long after the Israeli F-16s were delivered, Raz took one of the single-seaters out for a test run. During the flight he thought the navigation system was off. “Bumpy” was how he thought of it. He landed on the runway, taxied to the operational area, and parked the plane. He strode through the security checkpoint and returned to the squadron area to check the technical manual on the navigation system. He found the section he needed, put the book under his arm, and began the walk back to the aircraft.
Hill was laid out in two separate areas—the operational area, where the planes were manned, and the squadron area, where the flight personnel carried on the support business. The two areas were separated by a long cable some twenty inches off the ground. Personnel were prohibited from entering the operational area except through the security gate at the end of the field, about one hundred yards down the cable fence. Raz thought the extra hike down to the main gate a supreme waste of time, so he simply hopped the cable and cut directly across the field to his plane. In less than twenty seconds, two jeeps full of armed MPs screeched to a halt in front of him, their M-16 rifles pointed at his head.
“Hold it right there, mister,” one of the MPs barked.
“But that’s my plane . . .” Raz began.
“Hands up!” the MP cut him off, motioning upward with his rifle barrel.
“But—”
“Up!”
Raz raised his hands above his head and was arrested on the spot.
Meanwhile, Yaffe happened to be making his way from the squadron area to operations when he turned a corner and, to his surprise, saw his squadron commander being escorted out of the area at gunpoint by three MPs. Proud and a perfectionist, Raz strode by, silently. Yaffe stared back in complete shock as the guards marched his leader away, his face set hard as granite, his eyes betraying a look of impotence, humiliation, and fury.