Israel's Fugitive Flotilla

NOT since the Bismarck has there been such a sea hunt. In the teeth of a gale that whipped the azure Mediterranean into an ash-gray cauldron of 20-foot waves, five Israeli-manned gunboats scooted to Haifa last week on a 3,000-mile dash from the northern French port of Cherbourg. At various points, they were tracked by French reconnaissance planes, an R.A.F. Canberra from Malta, Soviet tankers, the radar forests of the U.S. Sixth Fleet, television cameramen and even Italian fishermen. From a distance, the world watched with emotions ranging from amusement to outrage. In a twist on old-fashioned gunboat diplomacy, Israel had retrieved $10 million worth of naval vessels, circumventing France's embargo on arms sales to the Jewish state and producing a political uproar that had several capitals buzzing.

The uproar began when Paris discovered that the gunboats and their Israeli crews had taken French leave of their fitting-out berths in Cherbourg. The 240-ton, 148-ft. boats had been ordered by the Israelis before Charles de Gaulle, seeking to enhance French influence among the Arab states, tightened his arms embargo on Israel in January 1969. Once the gunboats were completed, the French allowed Israeli sailors to take them out of port, but only on familiarization runs and with limited fuel.

A Wide Berth. On Christmas Eve, as they trudged along the quays to midnight Mass, Cherbourgeois observed that the gunboat crews were busily stowing supplies. Some young Israelis were out scouring the city for stocks of everything from cold tablets and vitamin-C supplements to American cigarettes. Some of them, with broad grins, explained that they were leaving to celebrate Christmas in Israel.

Christmas morning, in single file and with no lights, the fleet of five slipped past the Fort de l'Est breakwater, turned south and moved across the Bay of Biscay. They maintained radio silence until they reached Gibraltar 64 hours later. There they split up to prevent Soviet Mediterranean fleet units from boxing them in and herding them to an unfriendly port. Off Sicily, tankers were waiting to refuel the boats. Israeli naval units, possibly including two submarines, had also converged to serve as escorts. Unwilling to risk a pasting, Egyptian fighters and warships gave the fugitive flotilla a wide berth.

Prayers and Jokes. Shielded by a storm for most of the final lap, the Navy gray vessels rendezvoused outside Haifa and on New Year's Eve made their way into port as hundreds of Israelis cheered and ships' sirens split the air. Prayers of thanksgiving were recited in synagogues. Diners toasted the crewmen and exchanged gunboat jokes, some of them wordplays on the name of General Mordechai ("Moka") Limon, Israel's chief of arms purchasing in Europe and the man in charge of the Cherbourg escape. One joke had France's President Georges Pompidou walking into a French cafe and gloomily telling a waiter: "I'll have coffee without moka and my wife will have tea without limon."

The gunboats are ideal for Israel's small navy. Egypt already has 20 Soviet-built gunboats of the Osa and Komar classes; one of the Osas stunned Israel in October 1967 by sinking the destroyer Elath with a Styx missile. After the Six-Day War, Israel ordered a dozen vessels, each with a French hull, German engines and Italian electronics, including the 20-mile surface-to-surface Gabriel missile.

Five of the first seven boats had sailed from Cherbourg before De Gaulle's embargo was totally invoked following Israel's commando raid on the Beirut airport. The Israelis, who are familiar with such situations (see box following page), had no trouble getting the other two. They sailed the pair out of Cherbourg on a trial run, as they had done in the past, carrying a limited fuel supply. Just beyond the territorial limit. Israeli planes appeared overhead and parachuted enough additional fuel for the long run to Haifa.

Corporate Legerdemain. The last five boats, for which Israel had already paid $10 million, involved a more complex operation. For a while after Pompidou's election in June, the Israelis were hopeful that he would end De Gaulle's embargo and release the boats. The new French President not only kept the arms ban in force but actively promoted French rapprochement with the Arabs. There are reports that he is preparing to sell 50 Mirage planes and 200-AMX tanks to Libya; U.S. officials claim that he may even sell 50 Mirages originally destined for Israel to its most irresponsible antagonist, Syria.

Despairing of official assistance from Pompidou, the Israelis went into action and apparently got help from some of his top aides. First, General Limon signed away all rights to the unarmed gunboats, and France returned the $10 million. When the boatbuilder bemoaned his potential loss, according to one account, no less an official than Premier Jacques Chaban-Delmas personally urged him to finish construction, saying: "It will work out." Next, a firm called Starboat & Weil, incorporated in Panama in November and having an Oslo address, offered to buy the boats for offshore-oil exploration. Starboat's incorporator was Ole Martin Siem, 53, much-respected president of Norway's largest shipbuilding firm, the Aker Group. The operating heads of Starboat, however, turned out to be Israelis who had ordered several commercial ships from Siem and had persuaded him to help them. The tall blond officers who showed up in Cherbourg to take over the boats--and who were mistaken by some Frenchmen for Norwegians--were also Israelis. The Oslo address was just that--a post-office box and nothing more. Said Panama's consul general in France, Jorge Royo: "It was a beautiful piece of corporate legerdemain."

Even after the legerdemain was uncovered, the Israeli government continued to insist to all questioners that the speedy, 45-knot boats would be used to service and defend Mediterranean oil rigs. No one took that insistence particularly seriously. "Using these boats to look for oil is like using a Ferrari to haul potatoes," said a French radio commentator.

Curious Claim Check. Certainly some highly placed French officials were aware of the subterfuge. Before leaving Cherbourg, the gunboats had received customs clearance not as commercial vessels but as warships without military armaments (the Gabriel missiles presumably will be mounted in Haifa). Such ships usually require customs clearance from at least two ministries in Paris and final approval from the Presidential Palace, the Foreign Office and the Premier's office. Paris hummed with conjecture about which officials had been involved. A furious Pompidou convened a Cabinet meeting that lasted nearly five hours and was described by one participant as "very stormy." During the meeting, Defense Minister Michel Debre reportedly offered to resign, presumably for two reasons. One was that as Defense Minister he should have known what was happening but did not. The other was that Debre, the son of a rabbi, is particularly sensitive to charges of being pro-Israel. His resignation was rejected.

Limon was asked to leave France. Two members of the interministerial committee responsible for arms exports, Generals Louis Bonte and Bernard Gazelles, were suspended by the government. The actions amounted to mild wrist-taps. Limon was due to return to Israel in June anyway, probably to become director general of the Defense Ministry. The two generals are both close to retirement.

Nonetheless, Pompidou's actions seemed to assuage the Arabs. In a speech at Khartoum last week, Egypt's Gamal Abdel Nasser said: "We consider France a friend." Evidently determined that Nasser should go on feeling that way, Pompidou was pointedly cool to Israeli Ambassador Walter Eytan during his traditional New Year's diplomatic reception at the Elysee. The two shook hands perfunctorily, but no words were spoken. Was it sheer coincidence, then, or a touch of Gallic humor, that when Eytan drove up to the palace, the parking attendant handed him a claim check bearing the number 007?

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