As base commander, Spector was responsible for everything on the air force base, not only the planes, personnel, pilots, and squadron commands but niggling nuts-and-bolts details from mess supplies to infrastructure maintenance, all the while remaining an active fighter pilot and squadron commander involved in tactics and mission planning. When the new F-16 Fighting Falcon squadron was constituted at Ramat David, Spector became commander of that unit as well. It was an all-consuming responsibility.
Nevertheless, Spector made himself the squadron’s first pupil. As the commanding officer, he felt it a weakness to have men under his command who were expert in areas he knew nothing about—especially men he had mentored. As base commander he was one of the few allowed to know about the secret Osirak mission. A week after the first four F-16s were delivered to Ramat David, he began training in the Falcon. He worked up his own solo modelings, practiced simulated attacks, flew low-level, long-range navigations south along the Mediterranean coast and down the Sinai Peninsula. He said nothing to the men about this. But Raz was a little annoyed. What was Spector doing flying the F-16?
As Raz suspected, Spector had a plan. He knew the historic importance of the mission. A man used to the spotlight, he knew the notoriety it would bring. How could he, the nation’s most renowned fighter pilot, the commander of these men, stay behind while they flew into certain danger—and perhaps immortality? It would look like he was shirking.
“I want to join the Osirak mission,” Spector told Ivry in his office.
Ivry was stunned.
“I am their commander,” Spector said. “It is my duty to take my place with the men in this mission.”
“But you have not had the conversion training of the other men in the F-16,” Ivry replied.
“I have trained myself. I am as ready as anyone,” he argued. “I command many missions. Why would I not be part of this? It would be inappropriate for me, as their commanding officer, to remain at base while the men under me risk their lives on this mission.”
Ivry had long respected Spector as one of the IAF’s greatest pilots. But his gut told him Spector was not prepared. The mission pilots had all been carefully selected by him personally. They had trained hard for nearly a year, had logged hundreds of hours, had come together as a team. Spector would be in over his head in the new plane. And adding Spector to the mission would mean that one of the other pilots would be shoved out, pulled at the last second because an air force bigwig suddenly decided he wanted a piece of the action. It wasn’t fair, and it wasn’t good generaling.
“No,” Ivry said. “I’m sorry. I have to deny your request.”
Spector was stunned. He couldn’t believe it. He flew back to Ramat David chewing over what he should do. Could he just walk away? How would it look? No, he thought he had to be on the team leading his men. He decided he would have to go over Ivry’s head and make his request directly to the chief of staff, Raful Eitan. It was a fateful decision that would ultimately affect many people—but no one more than Spector.
Spector made an impassioned plea to Eitan to intervene. The chief of staff was in an impossible position. He had known Spector for twenty years and respected him immensely, both as a pilot and friend. How could he possibly humiliate him, Israel’s most celebrated fighter pilot? On the other hand, Eitan held Ivry in no less regard. And how could he undermine a commanding general by overturning his decision, completely violating the Israeli military’s sacrosanct chain of command? More critical, inserting Spector into the mission at such a late date could be dangerously disruptive. It was a lose-lose proposition however he cut it.
From the beginning the F-16 squadron had been under the command of Zeev Raz. As originally envisioned, the Ramat David F-16 wing would initially be broken into two squadrons, the 117 under Raz and the 110 under Nachumi, as more F-16s arrived from the United States and more pilots were trained. The mission team, on the other hand, consisted of eight pilots and two backup pilots, made up from the first three conversion teams sent to Hill. After Ben-Amitay’s death, the initial squadron consisted of Raz, Amos Yadlin, Doobi Yaffe, Hagai Katz, Amir Nachumi, Relik Shafir, Ilan Ramon, and Rani Falk. As within any group of very competitive men, there had been some jockeying for position and leadership. By late 1980, Nachumi had been chosen by Ivry to head the second F-16 squadron, the 110.
Since first conceived, the mission profile had gone through several modelings. At one point, when Begin pressed for an early mission in November 1980, Operations thought they could go with only four aircraft. When word of this came down the line, Nachumi grew agitated, fearing that he and his group would be bumped off the mission. He lobbied Spector hard, then began flying regularly to Tel Aviv and haranguing Ivry and IAF command to include his team in the raid. Day after day Nachumi appeared at Kirya, arguing his case, asking if they had made a decision yet.