“Remember,” Saguy said, “the SAM-6s are smokeless. You can’t see them. And they fly twice the speed of sound. In our estimation, the SA-6 missiles pose the most dangerous threat.”
Saguy then retraced the navigation route, which would dogleg south of Jordan from Etzion to avoid Jordanian radar and combat patrols, then cut across Saudi Arabia and through the western border of Iraq straight through to al-Tuwaitha. The Saudis had four American-supplied AWACS equipped with powerful long-range search radar extending as far out as 350 miles. IAF did not have the power to jam the AWACS. But intelligence reported that the Saudis would deploy only one AWAC during the mission parameters, and that plane’s normal search pattern focused on the Persian Gulf to the south, not to the west.
“We think there is a hole, a strip of desert all the way to Baghdad, with no radar coverage by anyone,” Saguy concluded. “But keep your head on a swivel, just in case.”
Ophir, Ramon’s girlfriend, covered the remaining intelligence details. When she finished, to the mild surprise of the assembled fliers and fighters, she blew him a kiss. He gave her a small wave of the hand, but it was not enough to hide the anxiety on his face.
Raz stood up from his desk and took the podium to review the entire mission—call signs, takeoff procedures, navigation routes, code words, radio frequencies, radio silence protocols, and emergency procedures in case of mechanical failure. The F-15s, billeted in the underground hangar, would taxi out for takeoff at 1455, or 2:55 P.M. Avi Sella would fly in one of the F-15s, operating a large, bulky SSB HF long-range radio. His job was to follow some twenty miles behind the attack force and function as the relay station between the mission leader and command.
A Boeing 707 communications command post had already taken off and would orbit above Israel. Sella in the F-15, following behind the attack group, would relay his radio messages to the Boeing communications post, which would in turn relay the messages to IAF control and command on the ground at Etzion. The F-16s would taxi out at 1500 hours for takeoff at 1600. The attack group should arrive at the target just before sunset, flying eastward out of a blinding sun. On their return, fighters would be scrambled over Israeli airspace to escort the F-16s home. GCI, ground-controlled intercept radars, would monitor any Jordanian activity.
They would fly in two teams led by Raz and Nachumi. Each pilot would have a call sign according to his place in the bombing order.
“I am Blue One,” Raz said. “Yadlin is Blue Two. Doobi and Hagai, Blue Three and Four. Amir, you are Blue Five, Colonel Spector Blue Six. Relik and Ilan, Blue Seven and Eight. Any questions?”
The teams, Raz continued, would fly at 360 knots, or six miles a minute, then increase to 480 knots, or eight miles a minute, for the approach to target after passing the IP, or initial point, the final navigation point at which the bombing run would start. The IP, Raz reminded them, pointing to the map of Iraq that hung behind the podium, was the edge of an island in the middle of Bahr al Milh Lake, about four miles west of al-Tuwaitha. At that point the pilots should line up and fly with thirty seconds’ separation between the planes. Iraqi radar would probably pick them up then, as they climbed out of the “snow,” the clutter of low-elevation radar. At this time the F-15s, which had shadowed the attack group twenty miles behind, would close and flip on their search radar, hunting for MiGs as they climbed to umbrella the target area.
Raz looked toward the six F-15 pilots.
“Your job is to protect us from MiGs,” Raz said. “We cannot be deterred by dogfights.”
Zeev looked at his own team.
“Remember, if you have trouble and have to eject, climb no higher than one hundred feet,” Raz reminded them.
The ejection charge would shoot the pilots to five hundred feet. Since Iraqi radar made sweeps only every twelve seconds, chances were a parachute drop from six hundred feet would show up as a blip only once before the pilot hit ground, so odds were good the blip would be read as a mistake.
“If you are hit by AAA and can fly, head west as far as you can. Drink your emergency water as soon as you get on the ground,” Raz said. “It’ll help you get over the shock of bailing out. Gather your parachute and bury it, then begin walking west. Wait until dark before activating your PRCs. We can’t afford any strange events like a rescue beacon before the attack. The success of the mission depends entirely on surprise.”
He stopped for a moment and shuffled his notes together, then looked back up.
“We have to destroy this target at all costs. There is no secondary target.” Raz stopped again, and looked at Nachumi.