In the early 1960s, Egyptian President Gamal Abdel Nasser began exploring nuclear options. Egypt had a research reactor supplied by the Soviet Union in 1961, and rumors abounded that Nasser was interested in acquiring nuclear weapons to counter Israel, especially after Egypt’s defeat in the 1956 Suez Crisis.

In 1963, Israel became increasingly concerned about Egypt's rocket program, which was supported by German scientists and aimed at developing advanced missile technology. There were claims that Egypt was attempting to equip missiles with radioactive waste and potentially nuclear warheads. During this time, U.S. President John F. Kennedy also pressured Israeli leaders to allow inspections of the Dimona nuclear reactor, fearing that Israel might be developing nuclear weapons.

However, Egypt's progress stalled. The Six-Day War of 1967, in which Egypt suffered a crushing defeat, diverted military and financial resources. After Nasser’s death in 1970 and Sadat’s peace with Israel, Egyptian nuclear ambitions shifted to peaceful energy development.

But Egypt wasn’t the only nuclear concern on Israel’s radar. As one threat faded, another began to rise — this time from the east. In the 1970s, Saddam Hussein’s regime in Iraq, pursued nuclear technology under the pretense of civilian energy. Iraq purchased a French-made Osirak reactor with the help of France and some Italian cooperation. The reactor, officially for peaceful purposes, was not suitable for energy generation, but it was very well-suited for plutonium production—a red flag for nuclear weapons development.

So Begin and his team cook up a plan. A crazy plan. Fly thousands of kilometers into enemy territory, undetected, bomb the reactor before it goes live, and fly back home — all without starting World War III.

The pilots? Hand-picked, young, and fearless. Among them: a future astronaut named Ilan Ramon (maybe a future blog post). They trained for months, memorizing maps, practicing flying just above the desert sand to avoid radar.

And then, on June 7, 1981, they launched. Eight F-16s with F-15 escorts. Silent. Low. Fast. Like shadows across the sand.

They reached the reactor. A few seconds of dive bombing. Boom. The Osirak reactor is reduced to rubble. One direct hit after another. No one even had time to blink.

Edited

The year was 1968, and Israel was facing an urgent crisis. The victory in the Six-Day War had come at a cost, as you remember from the previous newsletter, France, once a key arms supplier, had turned its back on Israel. President Charles de Gaulle, condemning Israel’s preemptive strike, imposed a strict arms embargo, cutting off access to the powerful Dassault Mirage 5 fighters that Israel had already paid for.

Israel needed a solution.

Somewhere in Switzerland, in the quiet offices of Sulzer, a company licensed to produce components for the Mirage III’s SNECMA Atar 9C engine, an unassuming Swiss engineer named Alfred Frauenknecht went about his work. He was not a spy, nor a man with strong political beliefs—just an engineer in need of money. And money, as it turned out, was something Israel was willing to provide. An operation was put in motion to acquire the Mirage blueprints by any means necessary.

Israeli intelligence, known for its daring operations, identified Frauenknecht’s financial troubles and made an offer: a large sum of money in exchange for technical documents. Frauenknecht hesitated, but the lure of wealth proved too strong. Slowly, methodically, he began to collect thousands of classified blueprints—detailed schematics of the Mirage’s airframe, avionics, and most importantly, the Atar 9C engine.

For the next few years (1968-1969), Frauenknecht smuggled out documents in secret, passing them into the hands of Israeli intelligence. The blueprints, once in Israeli possession, were studied by engineers at Israel Aerospace Industries (IAI). With these stolen plans, Israel reverse-engineered the Mirage 5, producing an almost identical aircraft—the IAI Nesher.

But Israel didn’t stop there. Armed with this knowledge, their engineers went further, replacing the Atar 9C engine with the more powerful General Electric J79, the same engine used in the American F-4 Phantom II. This modification required significant engineering changes, including structural reinforcements to handle the increased thrust and upgraded avionics to integrate both Israeli and American weaponry

And then came one of the biggest aerodynamic improvements, the addition of canards, small forward wings placed near the cockpit. These were introduced in the Kfir C2 and later models, drastically improving:

• Maneuverability – The aircraft could turn tighter, making it deadlier in dogfights.
• Takeoff and landing performance – Shorter takeoff distances and better control at low speeds.
• Stability – Compensating for the heavier engine and increasing overall control.

The result? A new aircraft—the IAI Kfir—a fighter even deadlier than the Mirage it was based on.

Meanwhile, Frauenknecht’s activities did not go unnoticed. By 1971, Swiss authorities uncovered the breach. Frauenknecht was arrested, charged with espionage, and sentenced to four and a half years in prison. The case caused an international scandal, but by then, the damage was done. Israel had what it needed.

By 1975, the first IAI Kfirs rolled off the production line and entered service with the Israeli Air Force. Later, the fighter was exported to Colombia, Ecuador, Sri Lanka, and even the United States (as the F-21, for training).

The Mirage had been born in France. But its Israeli descendant, the Kfir, was something entirely different—the product of necessity, espionage, and engineering ingenuity, proving once again that Israel could not be outmatched, even by an arms embargo.

The Cherbourg boats incident was a significant event that occurred in December 1969, involving Israel's acquisition of naval vessels under unusual circumstances.

Relationship between France and Israel had been relatively good, with France being a major supplier of Israeli military equipment. We all know about the relationship which led to the 1956 Sinai Campaign as well as our first atomic reactor. In the mid-1960s, Israel ordered 12 missile boats from France. These were Sa'ar-class vessels, to be built at the Cherbourg shipyards in France.

However, after the 1967 Six-Day War, French policy toward Israel changed dramatically under President Charles de Gaulle. In December 1968, France imposed an arms embargo on Israel. Despite the embargo, five of the boats had already been delivered, but the remaining seven were stuck in Cherbourg, paid for but not released. The embargo was a severe blow to Israel, as the missile boats were a crucial part of its naval defense strategy.

Admiral Mordechai "Mokka" Limon was the head of Israel’s arms procurement delegation in France at the time. He understood that we needed these ships and devised an elaborate plan to obtain these vessels. He had played a crucial role in negotiating the original missile boat deal and together with Shimon Peres, Director-General of the Defense Ministry at the time, they planned an elaborate plan to get the boats to Israel. Peres secured the necessary government approval and funding for the covert operation.

So what was the plan, you ask? Well, Limon created a fictitious Norwegian oil company called "Starboat," which supposedly purchased the boats for oil exploration in the North Sea, helping circumvent French authorities. This ruse allowed Israeli personnel to continue working on the boats in Cherbourg without raising suspicion.

He personally recruited a team of Israeli naval officers and sailors who quietly traveled to Cherbourg and prepared for the operation. Actually they were almost caught by immigration into France but a friendly Moroccan-born Jew let them through.

Limon meticulously planned the logistics of the escape, choosing Christmas Eve when French surveillance would be minimal and officials would be on holiday. He coordinated with Israeli intelligence to ensure the success of the operation, planning everything from false documentation to refueling arrangements.

On Christmas Eve 1969, the sea conditions in Cherbourg port were quite dramatic. A Force 9 gale was blowing, which is a strong gale with wind speeds between 41-47 knots (47-54 mph or 75-88 km/h). This kind of weather would have created very rough sea conditions, with high waves and challenging navigation. It was on this night, when most port workers and French authorities were celebrating the holiday, that the Israeli crews, disguised as civilians, boarded the boats. Without clearance from the French authorities, showing almost no lights, the missile boats quietly slipped out of Cherbourg harbor into the teeth of the Force 9 gale which kept even large freighters from venturing out.

They sailed through the stormy Atlantic Ocean, avoiding detection. The boats traveled a secretly pre-planned route, refueling at sea from Israeli commercial ships. By the time French authorities realized what had happened, the vessels were already in international waters. This operation became known as "Operation Noa," named after the daughter of Admiral Mordechai Limon who orchestrated the plan.

After a long journey of more than 3,000 nautical miles, they reached the Israeli port of Haifa on New Year's Eve, December 31, 1969.

The escape was an embarrassment for France, as it demonstrated Israel's ability to outmaneuver a major Western power. Though French authorities were angered, they did not take serious action beyond diplomatic protests.

The incident caused diplomatic tension between France and Israel but ultimately led to no serious consequences. The boats later became an important part of the Israeli Navy fleet and were used in various operations. The Israeli Navy was able to revise our strategy in favor of smaller missile boats, rather than the larger, slower destroyers. The French-built Saar class boats which were "liberated" from Cherbourg were the first fast attack vessels to meet the new needs.

The missile boats later played a key role in developing Israel’s missile boat fleet, which would prove crucial during the Yom Kippur War (1973), particularly in naval battles against Egypt and Syria.

During the South Africa apartheid era, Israel and South Africa maintained discreet military cooperation, and South Africa became interested in the Sa'ar / Reshef-class vessels due to their impressive performance. In the late 1970s and early 1980s, South Africa acquired modified versions of these missile boats, known as the "Minister" class or sometimes "Reshef" class in South Africa. South Africa ultimately operated nine vessels based on the Israeli Sa'ar design, built with Israeli assistance. I was told that these were named the Minister class, with vessels bearing names like SAS Minister of Defense, SAS Minister of Transport, etc. Not sure if that is true.
The operation was a brilliant combination of naval expertise, strategic deception, and intelligence work. I am hoping for more stories like these.