Cyril Steinberg was a volunteer from South Africa who served as a navigator in Air Transport Command in Israel’s War of Independence. To quote his words: “There were no heroics – I wasn’t involved in combat – it was an exciting challenge – a fascinating adventure and a great satisfaction with the job done. Above all, it was tremendously rewarding to be able to participate in a small way in the greatest event in Jewish history of our times!”
He died in Australia in December 2004.
EXCERPTS FROM CYRIL STEINBERG’S MEMOIRS “ISRAEL 1948”
According to my “log book,” or rather, crude recordings of the flights to and fro, it appeared that after the first week in July most of the trips from Zatec to Ekron were in the DC-4. This was the military version of the Skymaster, a modem postwar four-engine aircraft with a much bigger payload and range than the C-46. In fact it was able to cover the whole distance from Zatec to Tel Aviv nonstop in a total time of about eight or nine hours, depending on the winds. There was of course no need to fly westwards to Corsica but simply over the Adriatic around Greece and directly to Tel Aviv. Also in my “log book” there are sketches and a sequence of calculations which I remember using in conjunction with the astrocompass fitted to the astrodome of the aircraft. The purpose of the exercise was to determine our true course by taking readings on the sun which I actually carried out, but with what success I can’t remember. In a way it was quite a gratifying experience, as I didn’t ever have that opportunity in the World War II squadron¹. We weren’t equipped for that purpose in medium range bombers.
We left Ekron on 14th July at 00.10 and landed in Zatec at 10.00, flying in the DC-4. We carried secret coded documents to be delivered to the relevant authority in Zatec. These emanated from air force headquarters in Tel Aviv, outlining a plan of attack by air on Egypt directly from Zatec. We were aware of the contents and in the event of having to land in trouble on route, we were to destroy all evidence of this plan. The plan was prepared in anticipation of the arrival of three B-17s ‒ the Flying Fortress Bombers ‒ in Zatec, flying the usual route from the U.S.A. via Panama, Dakar and Corsica. These aircraft were purchased in the U.S.A. where they were being used for cargo transport after the war and then reconstituted to perform their original function as bombers.
We discovered on arrival that all was ready for the operation and the historic event was imminent, probably that very day. We delivered the documents safely and decided to leave for Prague immediately as we were not needed until the 17th, three days later according to my log. I remember clearly the conversation in the taxi on the way to Prague, speaking about the prospects of the proposed operation over Cairo, when we suddenly realized how dangerous it could have been if the cab driver understood English. Even though we didn’t mention names of places, I believe that the Arabs were well aware of our Czech operation, and had their spies strategically placed, especially among women in Prague hotels.
Apparently Ray Kurtz, Norman Moonitz and Bill Katz flew out of Zatec on July 14th, each piloting one of the B-17s and carrying a number of 50-kilogram bombs. They flew in formation and separated over Crete when Kurtz made for Cairo at dusk with King Farouk’s Abdeen Palace as his target. Unfortunately they missed the palace, but the “chutzpah” of the token raid had an impact on the Egyptians of what was possible and likely to come. The other two B-17s made token raids on Egyptian bases in the Sinai and all three returned safely to Israel, a significant change in the previous pattern of attacks.
To quote: “In the few days that remained of the Ten Days Offensive, the B-17s boosted fivefold the weight of bombs dropped by the fledgling Israel Air Force to date.” There were a few more direct flights I have recorded to and fro all in the DC-4s, instead of via Corsica in the C-46s, taking an average of about nine hours, regarded as a luxury after the C-46’s long hauls.
Sometime in mid-August, Hal Auerbach, chief of our operations in Tel Aviv, told me that I was to be the navigator on a special mission to take place from a destination in Czechoslovakia to Israel. At that stage I had been for some time the senior navigator in A.T.A., the Hebrew equivalent of Air Transport Command, A.T.C. We were to take delivery of some recently acquired aircraft and bring them to Israel. These aircraft were the famous Spitfire fighters – probably the best performers of all in World War II – and renowned for their part in the Battle of Britain. They were suddenly available in Czechoslovakia; I believe there was hope at some stage of purchasing P-51 Mustangs in Panama in preference to the Spits, but these were not available and the Israelis opted for the Spits. The air war already much in our favor with the acquisition of the MEs and now the prospect of obtaining the definitely superior Spits meant that we would be unassailable in the Middle East, in spite of the fact that the Egyptians had Spitfires, too.
The story goes that King George VI of England donated a whole squadron of Spitfires to the Czech Government after the war in recognition of the contribution of the Czech pilots serving in England in the “Free Czech Squadron” during WW ll. They were based in England and flew in combat against the Luftwaffe together with the R.A.F. These aircraft were purchased by the Israelis – I’m sure for a high price – in U.S. dollars, but it suited both sides of the deal. It was reputed that there were about 24 in all, and in good flying condition. All I knew about the details was that it was to be called operation “Velvetta,” a most exciting project.
Some days later, on 24th August, we left Ekron in a Constellation “RX-121”,its LAPSA registration, at 07.52, piloted by Martin Ribakoff and “Mischa the Russian;” he had somehow defected from the Soviet Union and landed up in Israel, was trained on the Messerschmidts, but found them unmanageable and joined the A.T.C. as a co-pilot. I was the navigator and there were a few other crew members and a number of official passengers. Among them was a woman accompanied by two young children, on her way to joining her husband in Prague at the Israel Embassy.
At this point in my writings I must refer to one of the many books written about the Balak airlift, tilled “The Midnighters.” It was obviously inspired by Marty Ribakoff and others, who employed the skills of a ghost writer whose name escapes me, and who was more concerned about sensationalism than the actual facts. I have a photocopy of “The Midnighters” detailing this trip in the Connie-121 in which I was a crew member. There is an exaggerated description of some of the events that took place and a sensational fictitious description of the climax of that unfortunate arrival in Zatec. I shall not refer to his version, but confine myself to the facts as I remember them. The RX-121 was the only Constellation in our stable and the pride of our Balak operation. Three Constellations were originally purchased in the U.S., but unfortunately two were seized by the U.S. Government after the first one got away to Panama, all the more reason why this one was so prized.
The trip was really luxurious after the C-46s, so much space and so much faster. The weather was ideal and the Mediterranean as blue and beautiful as ever. Everything was perfect. We reached the tip of the heel of Italy and set course for a point near Trieste, flying over the Adriatic alongside the Yugoslav coastline. Suddenly someone in the crew alerted us to the presence of a fighter plane alongside us with the familiar red star Communist markings. We were flying over the sea and not over their territorial waters, but we were certainly not in a position to argue about that possibility. We recognized the aircraft as the latest Russian fighter, the “Yak,” and that made the prospect somehow even grimmer.
We dreaded the moment when the pilot would lower his undercarriage, indicating that he insist we follow him down to land at a place chosen by him. The tension was great as he continued flying alongside us, when suddenly he dipped in a maneuver to the right ‒ underneath us ‒ and came up on the other side. These maneuvers were repeated and eventually he seemed satisfied that we were in fact a harmless passenger plane, or maybe he gave us a knowing wink when he recognized our Panama markings as he suddenly swooped down to the right, returning to his own territory. There was great relief as we had visions of spending time in a Yugoslav jail while our prized Connie was impounded.
The rest of the trip went without incident until we arrived at our destination in mid- afternoon. Some years later, in 1973, I went to Israel to visit my dad and to participate in the 25th anniversary of Yom Ha’Atzmaut. I spent a night with Jules and Ruth Cuburnek when they entertained a group of ex-air force men at their home in Kfar Shmaryahu. We discussed a host of subjects and somehow mention was made of the book featuring Marty Ribakoff, “The Midnighters.” I think it was Al Schwimmer who referred to the exaggerated comments about Ribakoff as well as the mention of the Yak episode over Yugoslavia, which he thought were a figment of his imagination. I immediately assured them that having been on that flight I could vouch for the fact that the episode did in fact take place. They were surprised but had to accept it, reluctantly.
We were ready to land at Zatec at about 4 pm on that hot summer afternoon after a pleasant trip, in spite of the disturbing encounter, which made the relief of reaching our destination even more pleasurable. The relief was short-lived when we learned that when the undercarriage was lowered for landing, the one wheel came down and was locked in place, but the other refused to budge and remained obstinately in the retracted position. There was no panic as the emergency system was available, but after struggling with that, nothing had changed – the left wheel remained locked in the down position and the right wheel in the up position, thus a belly landing was impossible, with one wheel up and one down. In the meantime we were circling the landing field in tight circles – it was getting hotter and hotter and bumpier all the time and we were all feeling a bit queasy, if not airsick.
The flight engineer, Jimmy Weddell, went down into the belly of the aircraft through a trapdoor ‒ he was trying to use the emergency system by cranking the lever either to lift the one wheel or lower the one that wouldn’t budge. We all had a turn at pumping the hydraulic system by hand, the fluid was leaking slightly and had that sickly smell, but to no avail. Eventually the pilot had to face the horrible reality: he had to put the plane down on one wheel. That is a feat for which no pilot is trained, for in practice, it cannot be simulated in training without damaging the plane and risking life and limb. We had circled for about an hour using up all the fuel, or as much as possible, to reduce the fire risk. At this stage, what with the bumpiness, the heat and the effect of the hydraulic fluid, we were most uncomfortable and somewhat more than queasy, and were anxious to attempt a landing, come what may.
In spite of the tension of the last hour and the prospect of a violent end to the drama, the final reckoning had to be faced. We were then instructed to strap ourselves in for the landing. The “Pride of Panama” RX-121 was about to face its doom or survive a great crisis and bring its human cargo to safety. I remember strapping myself into a passenger seat, calmly holding the little boy on my lap while the others strapped themselves in, too.
For the final approach only the outer two engines were used, and then cut just before landing. We could feel the first slight bump as the wheel made contact and the speed was sufficient to keep the right wing up, aided by aileron control. The motion of the plane running on one wheel was amazingly smooth, so much so that I imagined that we were doing a normal landing and after a few seconds I even released my belt as the pressure on the boy on my lap was increasingly uncomfortable. This of course was a foolish thing to do, as I knew the major impact was yet to come, when the speed dropped sufficiently to keep the right wing up. The plane would then inevitably plough into the ground. This of course happened a few seconds later. With a tremendous violent jerk, the aircraft skewed around to the right, the wing tip plunged into the ground and the plane was trapped off the runway, and came to a dead stop.
I held on tightly to my young ward and was knocked against some fitting, receiving a blow on the knee that gave me a nasty bruise. That was scant punishment for my premature release and a miraculous escape for all of us. Fortunately there was no fire, but we made short work of escaping from the aircraft in the most efficient way. I often wonder how that little boy fared after that. We met again at the embassy a few days later, but never again. He must be a man of about 50 today, unless the Six-Day War or the Yom Kippur War claimed him. Marty deserved all the credit in the world for bringing us back alive, but unfortunately the “Pride of Panama” looked sorry for itself lying there battered and bruised, and it was the only Connie we had.
The tremendous relief of arriving there alive was short-lived. We were told the bad news that we had to vacate the base at Zatec that very evening. Apparently the message had come from our embassy in Prague. There was speculation about the reason for this, as we were warned that the U.N. Truce team had got wind of our activities there and were due to inspect the place the next day. There were also rumors that the U.S. Government was most concerned that their nationals were operating with American aircraft behind the Iron Curtain, so they exerted pressure wherever it was most effective to discontinue this operation forthwith.
The Cold War between the Soviet and the West had reached a critical point at that very time and it certainly wasn’t politically opportune for Americans to be associated with such activity in Communist territory. 150 miles to the north of Zatec the Russians closed all access across East Germany to the Allied zones of West Berlin, which then became a beleaguered city without any prospect of survival. This act was intended to serve as the death knell to the only isolated non-communist enclave in the Soviet Zone, but was frustrated by the largest and most ambitious airlift in history. This was staged by the major Western powers but consisted largely of U.S. men, material and aircraft and after a fairly long period was successful in prolonging the life and spirit of West Berlin. The Russians eventually countered by closing off this area by building the infamous “Wall” which remained effective only until 1989 when, thanks to Gorbachev, that too was relegated to history. Our Balak airlift was puny in comparison. We didn’t carry food and the other essentials of daily life needed in Berlin. We only brought in aircraft, guns and ammunition, the instruments of death, but like Berlin, Israel survived.
However, that very day signified the end of the Balak airlift. It ceased to operate after that and all aircraft and crews returned to Israel to continue the struggle in different ways, such as assisting the Israeli army directly in the field. I do not have any statistics of our operations but will quote from Gordon Levett’s book:
“It is generally accepted that in twelve weeks the Balak airlift, with its nine C-46s, one DC-4 and one Constellation, made nearly 100 return flights between Czechoslovakia and Israel, airlifting 25 Messerschmidt 109 fighter aircraft, 300 tons of arms and ammunition and countless personnel. It was also the communications umbilical cord between besieged Israel and the rest of the world. By modem standards the logistics are not that impressive, but this was over 40 years ago. It was a covert operation with poor maintenance facilities and few spares. With a round trip of over 4,400 miles, Balak was probably the longest regular airlift in aviation history. The aircrew were “odds and sods” from all over the world – up there on their own when things went wrong. That things did not go wrong very often was a remarkable tribute to the aircraft, the men that flew and serviced them and the cause that inspired them. In a critical period of the war ATC supplied Israel with enough arms and ammunition to keep going and enough fighter aircraft to win the war in the air. Prime Minister Ben-Gurion stated in his memoirs that without the Balak airlift from Czechoslovakia, Israel would not have survived.”
I do not know what happened to the Connie after that, except that sometime later El Al had as its flagship the Constellation and then I read in “The Pledge” that “… the only thing that remained in Zatec of the bustling Balak operation was the grounded Constellation and Emie Stehlik still labouring to make it airworthy again. 18 months later he, AI Schwimmer and Sam Lewis flew the patched-up plane back to California.”
Another extract from “The Pledge” reports that “… Al Schwimmer returned to the U.S. in the fall of 1949 to face trial in Los Angeles with several others from the Burbank days for conspiracy to violate the Neutrality Act by exporting the C-46s and the Constellation to Israel. A confused charge, that the underground, by setting up an airlift in Czechoslovakia, had somehow given aircraft to the Communists, was refuted by the presence in L.A. of the Constellation “RX-121” which Schwimmer, Sam Lewis and Emie Stehlik had so laboriously repaired and flown back from Zatec. I didn’t want anyone to say I had given it to the Reds, Schwimmer explained. Schwimmer, Gardner, Service Airways and others were found guilty, but no prison sentences were imposed. They were fined $10,000 each.”
Before leaving from Zatec that evening, we were told to report to the embassy officials at a hotel in Prague. We took a cab and said goodbye to Zatec for the last time. We met al the Palace Hotel where I was booked in. I don’t remember the meeting very clearly, but it was to inform us that we would operate from a new base in a different part of the country in Moravia (Moravska) in future. We were given some information on the new operation being prepared which would be ready only in a few weeks. I remember meeting Issy Greenberg (Granot), Boris Senior and Jack Cohen (who now lives in Australia) in Prague. They were also going to be involved in the same operation, flying the Spitfires directly to Israel via a stopover en route. Issy would be involved in the radio installation equipment and Boris and Jack in flying, testing and eventually in ferrying. They would be leaving Prague in a few days’ time to travel to the new base while I would not be needed for at least two weeks or more before joining them there. The time was my own to do what I liked, a prospect that I relished, and an opportunity that I had waited for.
¹ Cyril served as a navigator in the 12th Squadron of the South African Air Force during World War II and was awarded the Distinguished Flying Cross.