Esther's Sling (49 page)

“Punch
ou ..” The last words of Gil Bar-Kokhba, known by his call sign “Gadget,” were an attempt to save his partner. There was not enough time.

The leading edge of the plane’s left wing dug into the top edge of the dam, the speed of the plane ripping the wing from the fuselage and pulling the nose of the plane down so that the fuselage skimmed over the top of the dam before slamming
into the surface of the lake. At over 600 miles per hour, the impact on water was functionally no different than hitting solid ground. The F-15I disintegrated in a fraction of a second, the two men inside dying instantly from the effects of almost 100 Gs of acceleration. In the rear seat, Ronen Isser, known as “Pacer,” died without ever realizing anything had gone wrong.

The two BLU-121Bs burrowed deep into the earthen dam and detonated in the spots that the planners intended. The large explosions created a liquefied void that resulted in a collapse of the side of the dam facing the lake. The water of the lake immediately rushed in to fill the void and the force of that water collapsed the dam above the void. The chain reaction continued until the Mamlo Dam had a V-shaped opening through which the waters of the lake gushed into the valley on the other side – the valley that contained many of the facilities of Parchin. Gadget
and Pacer had not died in vain.

Two Blackhawk helicopters of Unit 669 of the Israeli Air Force – the Flying Cats – lifted off from Ali Al Salem Air Base just outside Kuwait City. The helicopters had no national identification and were easily lost in the myriad USAF Blackhawks that came and went at this hub of Persian Gulf military activity. They had a 237 mile flight almost due north, flying west of Basrah and skirting the Iraqi town of Amarah. At 10:46 p.m. Iran time, just a quarter hour after the start of Esther’s Sling, the two helicopters banked right and flew the final 40 miles across the Meymeh River valley and into the western ranges of the Zagros mountains of Iran. They touched down on the clearing that formed the parking lot for the Dehloran early warning radar complex.

“Now take your comrade and walk north. As soon as we are airborne, Israeli bombers will attack this site. You have only a few minutes to escape.” The words were spoken by Yoni Ben Zeev and directed at the four Iranian radar technicians who had just had their plastic handcuffs cut off. Two of the Israeli
commandos had jury-rigged a stretcher for the wounded radar technician. The Sayeret Matkal captain was determined to honor his word to the four men – it was his way to ease the guilt of having earlier shot one in the back of the knee, an act that he knew would haunt him in the coming years.

Ben Zeev was lying to the men, but he needed them to be motivated to leave the area as quickly as possible. There would be no Israeli airstrike. Instead the team had placed a large amount of high explosive around the base of the radar and in the command trailer. As soon as they saw the helicopters touchdown, five minute fuses were set. The team of Sayeret Matkal
commandos had succeeded in their mission. Now all that was left to get home.

The first helicopter took off with half the team as Ben Zeev stood on the mountain dirt shielding his eyes from the dust and small rocks kicked up as the rotors beat the wind to provide lift. After a moment
, he lifted his head to see the Iranians moving away from the complex as fast as they could while carrying their stricken compatriot. Then the captain turned to see his demolition expert emerging from the command trailer and running at a dead sprint to board the remaining Blackhawk.

Slowly the captain walked up to the open door behind his demolition man and looked in to make a final head count.
He spoke to the mountain goat, who was on the first Blackhawk, to confirm his head count. Ben Zeev was satisfied that no one was left behind. He climbed into the helicopter and closed the door.

“Let’s get the hell out of here,” he yelled toward the pilot, not sure if the man could hear him or not. The Blackhawk lifted off. Captain Ben Zeev sat by the door facing rearward, his eyes not wavering from the Dehloran complex. He was determined to witness the explosions that would come shortly. His helicopter was
almost eight miles away when the flashes came. The first explosion destroyed the radar and its radome. Moments later, two more explosions occurred in quick succession, destroying the communications trailer and finally the radar operations trailer.

In under two hours, the team was safe at the same American military base
where they had begun their journey two days earlier.

Fifteen KC-135 tankers registered to a shadowy company named AS-3 Air Lease Limited had taken off from
Incirlik Air Base in Turkey earlier in the day. All of the planes had overflown Iraqi airspace to land and refuel at various American bases around the Middle East. All fifteen were now orbiting at 22,000 feet over the western end of the Persian Gulf. Israeli crews manned each plane and communicated with a nearby Eitam providing airborne warning and control. Ten F-16 Fighting Falcons were flying CAP.

The
first planes to refuel behind the big tankers were not returning to Israel. Three F-16I Sufas and four F-15C Eagles refueled quickly and headed east at high speed. All of the Sufas and two of the Eagles descended to several hundred feet, while two Eagles stayed at altitude. The planes were heading due east across the waters of the Persian Gulf toward the Bushehr nuclear power plant.

Once the Bushehr attack aircraft had refueled,
airplanes of the IAF returning from Iran began to take their turns being refueled. At 22,000 feet, over the course of the following hour, 146 thirsty Israeli warplanes refueled for the flight home over northern Saudi Arabia – but the plan had called for 150 planes to get refueled. In addition to Gadget’s F-15I, two F-16Is and an F-15C had been shot down while executing their missions.

In the air over Bushehr, F-15 Eagles engaged several MiG-29 and F-4 Phantom fighters attempting to defend the nuclear reactor complex. The Iranians fought bravely but were drawn away from the real action. Flying under 500 feet, two of the Sufas lined up on their targets. The air defense radars around Bushehr had already been destroyed by the earlier attack from the Boeing B-737-400F – the last successful action taken by the cargo plane before being shot down 46 minutes earlier.

Each of the two
Sufas had four GBU-32 laser-guided bombs weighing a little over 1,000 pounds. The bombs were general purpose bombs with no ability to penetrate reinforced concrete structures. The target of one of the planes was the control room at Bushehr. The assignment of the other was to destroy the back-up generators that powered the nuclear plant’s pressurized water pumps and the power sub-station that connected Bushehr to the electric grid.

The planning to destroy Bushehr had been the most debated aspect of Block G. Unlike Arak, which had not been operational and now lay in ruins with minimal radioactive impact, Bushehr was an operating nuclear power plant with a full fuel complement that had been running at its maximum design power since the summer of 2012. The same discussion between the President of the United States and Prime Minister Cohen during which the president agreed to send two MOPs to Israel, had become heated over the fate of Bushehr. The president thought he had elicited a promise of no attack on Bushehr. Now, the prime minister’s view of what he had promised was being implemented. The key was to ensure no breach in the outer containment building of the nuclear reactor building made of up to three meters of reinforced concrete.

For the planners of Block G, Bushehr had only one purpose – it was a test bed to eventually provide Iran with plutonium for nuclear warheads. There had been no question of the need to target the facility, only intense discussion about how. Eventually, discussion gave way to planning and planning gained its own momentum.

Both F-16I
Sufas designated their targets and dropped two bombs initially, then circled back to drop two more. The third Sufa pilot assessed the damage done before deciding to put two more bombs on the control room and two more on the electrical sub-station.

What was intentionally untouched was the emergency shutdown bunker and its two diesel generators. This room had only one function: to safely shutdown the reactor in the event of a complete failure of the main control room. Now the control room and its Iranian and Russian technicians was obliterated and on fire. The Israeli planners hoped that the emergency shutdown bunker was manned, as it was supposed to be at all times, but no
one at Mount Olympus was sure.

The betting pool on a catastrophic core meltdown put the odds at 50-50. The scientists advising the prime minister had told him that the odds were high that the Iranians or their Russian advisors would successfully
shut down the reactor, but that if they didn’t, any partial meltdown of the core should be contained within the main containment building. What the prime minister hoped for – and it was a hope not shared with any other person – was that the core would at least melt down partially, rendering the Bushehr Plant nothing but an expensive clean-up project.

Cohen was hoping for Three Mile Island, but everyone dreaded another Chernobyl. The fuse had been lit by Israeli bombs and only time and the courage and skill of surviving Iranian and Russian technicians would reveal the ultimate outcome.

At Shangri-La in the Iraqi desert, Major Gideon Meyer waited outside the rear ramp of the last remaining operational C-130 still on the ground. Over an hour long period, 45 planes of the IAF, all of which had been on SEAD missions, had passed through Mudaysis Airfield for refueling on their way home. During the 20 minutes since the last F-16 took off for home, two KC-130s had taken off with the air traffic control trailers and most of the men.

As
Meyer stood there, the commander of a small demolition team walked up to him. “Everything is set,” said the demolition expert. He held up a small radio transmitter to show the major. Once he pushed the button, all of the equipment they had wired to explode, which included the Ilyushin tankers and the KC-130 that had survived a rough landing but could not take off safely, would be on a two minute fuse.

Meyer
motioned the demolition man into the cargo cabin of the KC-130. “Join your men. We shouldn’t be much longer.” They were now waiting only for the last of the four vehicles that had controlled traffic during the evening. About six minutes later, a Humvee painted in the colors of the Iraqi National Army pulled onto the tarmac and four men exited and ran to the back of the plane carrying all their portable equipment. Finally the major stepped away from the plane and pulled a small flare gun from his pocket. He fired a single orange flare into the sky. It was the last call. Anyone not on this plane was on his own.

Several minutes later, five remaining Shaldag soldiers, including their commander, emerged from the darkness and jogged to the KC-130.
Meyer saluted each man as he boarded the plane and followed the Shaldag commander up the ramp.

While the plane was at the end of the taxiway preparing to start its takeoff roll, the demolition leader pushed the button on his radio transmitter. The plane took off and circled once to witness the expected explosions. Shortly after takeoff, six fireballs lit up the night. In addition to the four aircraft blown up, the two pickup trucks and their jamming equipment, which would have been flown home had the fourth KC-130
been operational, were blown.

The KC-130 headed home.

The sirens first sounded in Tel Aviv two hours after the concept codenamed Esther’s Sling successfully destroyed Fordow and Natanz. Iran launched the first of a salvo of five Shahab-3 missiles before all of the aircraft of the IAF had returned to Israel. Only two of the medium range ballistic missiles were successfully intercepted by Arrow 2 missiles. The assurances of Defense Minister Avner had proven to be fleeting.

Two of the missiles landed in unpopulated spots – one in a field north of the city and one in the Mediterranean Sea. But o
ne warhead, comprised of over 2,000 pounds of high explosive, detonated in the top floors of a tall condominium building not far from the Kirya. In the middle of the night – with most residents of Tel Aviv assuming that the sirens signaled yet another vain attempt by Hamas to strike Tel Aviv – few heeded the sirens. This was not a homemade rocket fired by Hamas. More than 90 died in the explosion and subsequent fire.

Worse came the next day.
The shock of Project Block G had worn off and tens of thousands of Iranians marched the streets of Tehran burning Israeli and American flags and demanding revenge. The Iranian regime was equal to the request. A little after noon Iran time, the U.S. X-band radar site in Turkey detected the first of 98 Shahab 3 and 4 missiles launched within a two minute window. The launch had been long planned as the main retaliatory strike in the event of an Israeli attack.

Fifty-two of the missiles were aimed at targets in Tel Aviv, twenty-eight at Haifa and eighteen at the Israeli nuclear complex at Dimona in the Negev desert. The Iranian plan was to overwhelm the Israeli defenses. The plan was successful. Twenty-seven missiles landed within Tel Aviv, including two within the grounds of the
Kirya, the IDF headquarters. Almost two dozen buildings were destroyed and over 1,000 Israelis would be pronounced dead once all the rubble was cleared. In Haifa, nine missiles eluded Israeli defenses and claimed the lives of seven civilians. But for Prime Minister Cohen and the IDF, the biggest blow came at Dimona. Six missiles landed within the sprawling complex, including a direct hit on the main containment building that blew a hole in the thick concrete shell of the building. The Dimona reactor had to be shutdown using emergency procedures. Only the skill of the engineers avoided a serious release of radiation.

On the same day,
Hezbollah spun up its missile inventory on orders from its IRGC masters. The Israeli Air Force was back home and waiting for them. The next three days saw a repeat of the Second Lebanon War of 2006 as the IDF entered Lebanon in a measured manner to stop the rain of missiles. But the chaos in Syria and the wavering power of Bashar al-Assad had far more effect on Hezbollah than the raging warplanes of the IAF. The group was far too nervous about the developing war with Sunni Muslims in Syria to do anything other than make a showing on behalf of its Iranian benefactor. A truce was agreed to late in the afternoon of October 8 as the IDF was completing the call up of 90,000 soldiers. In the end, it took the firing of just over 400 missiles into Israel to buy Hezbollah the level of respect it sought. None of these missiles had the impact of the Iranian Shahabs.

Late in the day on Sunday, October 6,
in a bunker located on the outskirts of Jerusalem, the Kitchen Cabinet discussed the carnage that Shahab missiles had caused during the day. Defense Minister Avner offered his resignation even as he demanded a nuclear response. The meeting was interrupted by a long call between Cohen and the President of the United States. There would be no nuclear response. Avner’s resignation would be accepted two weeks later. Despite the success of Block G, Zvi Avner would take the blame for the failure of Israel’s ballistic missile defense system to protect the nation.

That same day, the world press tried to decipher what exactly had happened inside Iran and how much damage had been i
nflicted on the Iranian program. As was typical with the early reporting in an event like Block G, stories ranged from the use by Israel of nuclear weapons on Fordow, to reports of Israeli commando teams operating far and wide inside Iran. Initial speculation on the overnight airstrikes focused on the IAF operating from Azerbaijan despite adamant denials from Azerbaijani officials that they had anything to do with the prior night’s events.

But by noon London time, the world’s media became fixated on only one thing: the unfolding damage at the Bushehr Nuclear Power Plant and rumors of a meltdown of the core. It would take days of wild speculation and weeks of monitoring by American aircraft to confirm that Bushehr had experienced a partial meltdown of its core but that the resulting molten slag had been successfully contained within the concrete containment building. For Israel, it had been the biggest risk taken in Block G and it had paid off.

On Monday, October 7, stock markets around the world lost more than 4% of their value, the day starting particularly bad in Europe as Brent crude prices jumped more than $30 per barrel in the opening hour of trading. But a noontime drop in oil prices in reaction to the lack of hostilities in the Persian Gulf caused the European markets to rebound off their lows and helped limit the damage during early trading in the American markets.

Late in the day
, as Iran continued to fire Shahab-3 missiles at Israel periodically, mines were discovered in the Straits of Hormuz. Skirmishes occurred sporadically between U.S. warships and IRG naval vessels in the Persian Gulf – the result typically being deadly for the Iranians. The president announced the deployment of two more American aircraft carriers in addition to the two already in the region. When an American F-22 Raptor operating out of Al Dafra Air Base in the UAE shot down a flight of three F-4 Phantoms that strayed too close to U.S. naval forces in the Gulf, oil prices skyrocketed again and equity markets fell. But despite these “unfortunate incidents,” no out-right war between the U.S. and Iran had yet begun.

During the day, two more
Shahab-3 missiles evaded the Israeli missile defense system. One missile landed in a park, causing no damage. The other missile, targeted at Haifa, was a newer version of the Shahab with four independently targeted warheads. The missile struck home in downtown Haifa during the afternoon. One warhead detonated inside Rambam Medical Center, just above the ER waiting room. It killed 47 patients, medical professionals and employees. Among the more extreme pundits of the Israeli press, open calls for the deployment of nuclear weapons were discussed.

On
October 8, the UN Security Council met to condemn Israel and the “war crime” of using civilian aircraft to attack Iran. The U.S. exercised its powers to keep the Security Council from passing the original resolution. Instead, a resolution was passed calling on all sides in the conflict to use restraint and stand-down. But the meeting that mattered on that day happened late in the evening in Geneva, Switzerland. After intervention by the Russians – who shared intelligence with the Iranians of U.S. preparations for an air campaign – the Iranian foreign affairs minister agreed to meet secretly with the new American secretary of state.

The two men met in a small office room in the Palace of Nations on the Avenue de la
Paix – the Avenue of Peace. The message delivered by the American official was blunt. The U.S. would not accept any action by Iran to close the Straits of Hormuz. This position was well known and had been oft repeated. What the Iranian did not expect was an equally unequivocal statement that the U.S. would not stand by while ballistic missiles were fired at Israel.

The dialogue between the men was unusually frank – the type of direct language demanded by the situation and emboldened by secrecy. “I am here to tell you”
stated the secretary of state, “in clear and certain terms that any missile fired by your nation at any other nation after eight in the morning your time tomorrow will be considered an act of war by the Islamic Republic of Iran against the United States of America. The reaction will be the commencement of a full-scale and unrestrained aerial campaign to destroy the offensive capability of the Iranian military. Do you understand what I am saying?”

The foreign affairs minister, who had attended university in the U.S. and spoke fluent English, looked into the eyes of the American secretary of state. After a pause, he reacted. “Shock and awe.
Yes, I understand this threat.”

The next morning
, Iran invited the UN secretary general to Tehran. The last missiles fired at Israel were all launched before sunrise on October 9. A de facto cease-fire took hold.

Hamak Arsadian reached the parking lot at the customs center in Nordouz, Iran at 9:15 p.m. on the evening of
October 5. The guards had gone home and the border crossing over the Aras River was closed until morning. The Armenian parked his rig next to several other trucks waiting for the morning, turned his engine off and tried to sleep. He had been on an adrenaline high ever since he had dropped the Sayeret Matkal team in the middle of the Zagros mountains the night before. Normally he would have spent the day dropping off his cargo and working on new connections for future business. But on this trip he had heeded the advice of Yoni Ben Zeev. He hastily made his delivery in Ahvaz early in the morning and immediately headed back north toward home.

Arsadian crawled into his bunk and did the one thing that would get him sleepy:
He started to read a book.

The
sound of a truck engine starting woke up the Armenian trucker the same way it often did. He wiped his eyes, pulled the blanket off and lowered himself into the driver’s seat. All he wanted at that moment was a cup of coffee. As he gave into the temptation to yawn, he watched in shock as a border guard ran past his tractor. The border guards never ran – they were never in a hurry. Outside he noticed two IRGC soldiers walking toward the customs building. Each had an AK-47. But what struck Arsadian was that the guns were not slung over their shoulders, they were being held in their hands.

A group of drivers were talking nearby. Arsadian got out and joined them. He heard the news that apparently the Israeli Air Force had attacked Iran during the night. One man claimed that the Iranians had already destroyed Tel Aviv with a
nuclear weapon in retaliation.

The border was closed for the time being.

During the next several hours, border guards – each with an IRGC shadow – questioned all of the drivers waiting to cross into Armenia. Arsadian’s turn came a little before noon. He was interrogated about what he had done since passing through the crossing three days earlier. The guards looked into his now empty trailer before moving on to the next driver in the queue. Hamak returned to his tractor to wait. It seemed to him that the guards were more interested in the trucks that had loads they were transporting out of Iran. Several of those trucks were emptied in their entirety. As the Armenian thought through the action of the Iranians, it became clear to him that they were looking for men being spirited out of the country – spies, commandos, downed airmen.

Hamak Armenian and his truck had the opposite profile of where the Iranian suspicions were focused. At 3 in the afternoon
, an Iranian border guard walked up to the Armenian’s door and told him he was cleared to go. He wished the Armenian a safe journey home. Hamak returned a warm thanks.

Hamak Arsadian crossed the Aras River bridge to the safety of his native country at 3:06 p.m. on
October 6.

“
Mazel tov!,” shouted the guests as the groom smashed a wine glass with his right foot. It was a beautiful June weekend, perfect weather for an outdoor wedding on the shores of the Sea of Galilee.

The manager of Villa
Melchett had never before seen security like this. The rough looking men in jackets with no ties were one thing, but when two IDF Blackhawk helicopters started circling the estate about a half hour before the ceremony, she insisted on an explanation. The groom – whose name she did not recognize – calmly took her into her office.

“I have a special
shomer,” said the groom, referring to his best man.

“Who is he, the prime minister
?” joked the manager. “He should be here already,” she admonished.

The groom smiled. “You will understand once he arrives. In the meantime, you can take comfort that we are in the safest spot in Israel right now.”

Fifteen minutes later, several black SUVs pulled up in front of the villa, which had been rented by the groom for the weekend. Out of the first SUV, several men emerged. Like the advance crew, they were typically in their thirties or early forties. They wore jackets and were clearly in excellent condition. Each man wore sunglasses, a conspicuous earpiece, and none of them smiled. One man ran to the rear passenger door of the second SUV and opened it. Prime Minister Cohen stepped out in one of his finest suits. From the third SUV, Mossad Director Levy emerged wearing a suit that looked like it had been pulled out of a closet for the first time in a decade.

The manager rushed outside to welcome her guests. Cohen wondered why she was laughing. As he thought
about it, he realized that his presence often provoked a wide range of unusual reactions. Of course, he was unaware of her speculation to the groom only minutes earlier.