In 1972, during one of the “Montana” patrols, the boat of Lieutenant Roni Bilik (the lead of the pair), number 881, suffered a malfunction and had to stay overnight in At-Tur for repairs. My boat, 873, went out on a “solo” patrol off the coast of A-Tur. Right as we departed, we noticed unusually strong radar detection and waited to see what would happen.

That night, Second Lieutenant Israel Fogel, who was sailing as my deputy and commander-in-training, spotted a “skunk” (unidentified contact) about 12 miles from us. There was a reason we called him “Hawk Eyes.” They woke me up to the bridge, and since the boat was heading south, we set off in pursuit. I reported the situation to Bilik and also to the sector command via the “Arafel” Network (through the relay station in Santa Katarina). The sea was calmer than usual, and the moon was nearly full. On the way, I realized that to intercept the boat, I would have to approach the Egyptian coast. In Sharm el-Sheikh, the operations room was commanded by Lt. Col. M., who we knew as someone who didn’t take risks. Period. I understood that if I wanted to catch the boat, I had to keep him in the dark.

We sailed at full speed toward the boat, and when we approached it, we maneuvered it into the moonlight path, which was close to setting. Through binoculars, we saw that it was a small fishing boat with quite a few people aboard—not a typical fishing crew—which was a bit strange considering we spotted it from 12 miles out. We performed a northern flanking maneuver so that we were between the boat and the Egyptian coast, with the boat to our east. We got closer, and then I turned a spotlight on it. At that point, the boat was about three-quarters of a mile from the Egyptian coast, just slightly north of El-Ashrafi. We deployed a rubber boat to board them and I asked the boarding team to check the hands of the people aboard and report back. The response was that some had rough hands, typical of “fishermen,” and some had “clerk’s” hands.

This was all done while sailing northward, with one of the crew steering the boat. I understood that this was of national security importance and reported to the operations room that I was heading north to A-Tur—without giving my exact position. At A-Tur, special police were waiting, who searched the men’s clothes and found papers with codes and information about IDF movements in the Sinai Peninsula.

It turned out that the Egyptians had been sending intelligence agents into Sinai who connected with Bedouins and tracked the movements of the IDF and Navy. From this group, a lot of information was obtained about Egyptian methods and, more importantly, what they were trying to find out.

A year later, I had to testify in court in Gaza, confirming that I had arrested them within Israeli territorial waters. Luckily, I hadn’t given my location reports to the Sharm operations room. The “fishermen” were apparently released as part of the prisoner exchange following the Yom Kippur War.

We returned to base with a broom on the mast (a naval tradition signifying a “clean sweep”), thinking the Navy girls would be waiting on the dock. No girls, not even birds. Only the refueler was waiting.

As usual, no debrief was conducted, and no lessons were learned.

The Fishing boat rests at A-tur port

My boat and crew “873”

The Chase