Air & Space Smithsonian – September 2019

friendly, not only imposing an embargo on arms
to Israel but also supplying aircraft and training to
the Arab air forces.
Israel was desperate. Although volunteer airmen
had smuggled a handful of surplus transports and
training aircraft past the embargo enforcers, they
had failed to score any fighters. Israel turned to
cash-strapped Czechoslovakia, which was selling
arms on the international market. In secret talks,
the Czechs let it be known they would sell 25 Avia
S-199 fighters to Israel.
No one representing Israel liked the deal—or the
ersatz Messerschmitt. The price was outrageous:
$180,000 for each fighter, including weaponry, pilot
training, and support equipment. Meanwhile, the
superior North American P-51 Mustang was sell-
ing in the United States for a mere $4,000. But the
Mustang—and every other modern fighter—was
off limits. Israel’s de facto head of state, David Ben-
Gurion, personally gave the order: Buy the Czech
fighters. Send pilots to learn to fly them—now.
The first band of volunteers—two Americans, one
South African, seven native Israelis—arrived at České
Budějovice air base on May 11, 1948. Lou Lenart,
a wiry former U.S. Marine Corps pilot, made the
group’s first flight in the S-199. It was nearly his last.
Recalled Lenart in The Lion’s Gate, a book published
in 2014: “The big paddle-bladed propeller produced
so much left-pulling torque, that the first time I tried
to take off, the plane ran away from me clear off the
runway,througha fence,andovera cliff.”Lenart
foughttokeepcontrolwhilethefightergrudgingly
gainedenoughspeedtofly.Whenhelandedbackat
theairfield,thepilotnoticedhisfellowvolunteers
staringat him.Theywereamazedhewasalive.
Lenart’sinauguralflightwasthebeginningofa
turbulentrelationship.Tothevolunteerpilots,the
Czechfighterseemedtohavea viciousstreak,like
anattackdogturningonitshandler.Thenarrow
landinggearmadetheS-199difficulttokeepaligned
duringtakeoff.Directionalcontrolwasmadeeven

worse by the enormous torque of the propeller. The

Czechs called the S-199 mezec, meaning “mule.” The

Israeli air force gave the fighter a more menacing

name: messer, Yiddish for “knife.”

The volunteers had barely begun training when,

on May 15, the radio in their Czech quarters broad-

cast the news that Israel’s war of survival had begun.

“We heard that Tel Aviv had been bombed from the

air,” remembered Ezer Weizman in the 1976 book

On Eagles’ Wings. Weizman, who would later com-

mand the Israeli air force and eventually be elected

president of Israel, recalled the airmen’s reaction

to the broadcast: “ ‘That’s enough,’ we proclaimed.

‘We’re going home.’ ”

While training in Czechoslovakia, only five of the

volunteers,thosewithWorldWarII experience,had

qualifiedinthetrickyfighter,andnonehadflown

it morethana fewtimes.ThefirstfewS-199swere

disassembledandloadedintotransportsandflown

bynighttoEkronairfieldinIsrael.

ThewarwasgoingbadlyforIsrael.Bytheeve-

ningofMay29,theEgyptianarmyhadadvanced

northwardalongtheMediterraneancoasttothe

villageofAshdod, 20 milesfromTelAviv.Israeli

commandoshadblownupa bridge,haltingthe

Egyptianforces.Bynextmorning,however,the

NO ONE REPRESENTING ISRAEL

LIKED THE DEAL—OR THE

ERSATZ MESSERSCHMITT.

THE PRICE WAS OUTRAGEOUS:

$180,000 FOR EACH FIGHTER.

The DNA of the

Messerschmitt

Bf 109 (opposite) is

apparent in the

Czech knockoff

(below). Both

fi ghters are

monoplane

taildraggers, but

the Messerschmitt

was powered by a

superior engine.

HARRY WHITVER

58 AIR & SPACE airspacemag.com