Grandma's army

  The long arm of the US State Department, as well as the British Foreign Office had finally reached Czechoslovakia. For three months, the pilots from the base in Czechoslovakia had flown ninety-five round trips to Israel, delivering 300 tons of desperately needed weapons and ammunition. They had hauled 25 Messerschmitts, together with the fighters’ spare parts, armament, mechanics, and most of the pilots. Now it was all over. They were given only one day to get out of the country. Since the end of May, 1948, the Negev had been occupied by the Egyptian army. Behind the Egyptian line was a complex of Israeli settlements and a badly depleted brigade of the IDF. Every attempt to resupply and relieve the cut-off units by truck conveys had failed. When the truce was over, the battle-fatigued fighters in the Negev would be crushed. The only solution was if the isolated Negev settlements could be resupplied by air. Working day and night an improvised runway was carved out, in the inhosp

  Emmanuel Tsur was an Israeli agent and pilot. Armed with a stack of passports in various names, and a portfolio of false companies, he made acquisitions for the IDF. In July 1948 he was in England, looking for fighter airplanes that could come in fast and low, and make precise drops. He was examining two war-surplus Mosquito bombers. They were ideal for Israel’s needs – fast, multi-role fighter bombers – and in good condition. Tsur’s problem was now how to get them to Israel. John Harvey, going by the alias “Terence Farnfield” was an ex-RAF flier and he worked for Tsur. Flying one of the Mosquito’s, after filing a flight plan to Exeter, he turned south and headed toward France. He barely made it to Haifa. A few day’s later, a hired pilot was taking off in the second Mosquito when he was slammed back into the airfield. He survived the crash, but the plane was destroyed. It didn’t burn because the fuel tanks were empty, even though he had supervised the fuelling the night before.

  After Modi Alon’s downing of the two Dakota bombers, the Egyptians had given up attacking Tel-Aviv from the air. Now they were coming from the sea. After one of the new volunteer airmen had crashed the last Messerschmitt fighter, the tiny Israeli Navy had nothing that could engage the Egyptian ships. With no choice, an urgent call went out to the domestic airfield at Sdeh Dov. The Sdeh Dov airbase consisted of only a handful of utility planes, fewer than two dozen airmen and only one military trained pilot. A little band of three amateur “bombers” were sent to engage with the Egyptian navy. The desperate airmen had to toss bombs from the cockpits of wooden airplanes by hand. It was broad daylight in a clear blue sky. The Egyptian warships were armed with antiaircraft guns. Each plane made multiple round trips, re-arming at Sdeh Dov and returning to harrass the Egyptian ships. When Israeli Intelligence received reports that the top officials of the Arab League were meeting in Am

  By now, the Egyptians knew that Israel had fighters and they knew the whereabouts of the airfield. A new, secret  base beyond the range of Arab guns was  hastily prepared. It was constructed in a patch of sand dunes and the orange groves of the sleepy farm community of Herzliya. The pilots all hated the treacherous Messerschmitts, but they were still the only fighters available. In fact, the Israeli forces were short on everything – except for resourcefulness. They had already used scraps from tanks, guns, warships, etc. to cobble together weapons. Why not a fighter? When the British withdrew, they left behind a scrap heap containing the remains of Spitfires. Even better was the almost intact Egyptian spitfire ditched on the first day of the war. Three months before the War of Independence, a brilliant mechanic named Jack Friedman, defected from the RAF and joined the Haganah – even giving himself a Hebrew name. He, and his ragtag team of mechanics, had to stitch together a giant