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The sun had barely risen over the war-torn skies of the Sinai when the air battle erupted, a savage display of speed, fire, and raw nerve. It was October 30, 1956, the second full day of the Anglo-French-Israeli assault on Egypt, and the desert sky had become a furious battleground where Israeli Mystère IV jets clashed with Egyptian MiG-15s in one of the most intense aerial encounters of the war.
The Suez Crisis had already turned into a whirlwind of geopolitical chaos, but in the air, there was no room for diplomacy—only survival. The Israeli Air Force (IAF) had trained relentlessly, honing its pilots into a disciplined, deadly force, but they were facing a formidable opponent. The Egyptian Air Force (EAF), supplied and trained by the Soviet Union, wielded the sleek and deadly MiG-15, a jet that had made its name in Korea, tangling with American Sabres in ferocious dogfights. Now, over the sands of Sinai, it would meet a new challenger: the French-built Dassault Mystère IV, flown by Israeli pilots eager to prove their mettle.
As the first Egyptian MiGs swept into the skies above Sinai, Israeli radar stations and forward air observers gave the warning: enemy fighters inbound. The order was immediate—scramble the Mystères. Israeli pilots, already on high alert, roared into action, throttling their engines to full power as they streaked into the sky, climbing fast to intercept.
At the heart of the battle was a young but skilled IAF pilot, Ran Ronen, later to become one of Israel’s top aces. He and his squadron leader, Gideon Lichtman, were among the first to engage the MiGs in combat that morning. As the MiG-15s slashed through the sky with their distinctive swept wings, the Israeli pilots knew they were up against one of the best jet fighters of its era. The MiG was faster, could climb like a rocket, and packed a lethal punch with its 23mm and 37mm cannons. But the Mystère IV had its own strengths—it was highly maneuverable, rugged, and in the hands of well-trained pilots, a deadly dogfighter.
The first clashes were lightning-fast. MiGs dove in from above, using their superior altitude to attack with brutal efficiency, while the Mystères, more nimble at lower speeds, twisted and turned to evade the onslaught. Ronen spotted a MiG lining up on one of his wingmen and instantly pulled his aircraft into a tight turn, rolling inverted before yanking the stick back. The G-forces crushed him into his seat as he lined up the MiG in his sights. The Egyptian pilot, focused on his target, never saw Ronen coming. A short burst from the Mystère’s cannons shredded the MiG’s tail section, sending it into a smoking spiral.
Meanwhile, another dogfight raged nearby. Lichtman, an experienced pilot, found himself locked in a deadly one-on-one duel with an Egyptian MiG. The two jets weaved through the sky in a high-speed dance of death, each trying to gain the advantage. Lichtman pushed his Mystère to its limits, yanking it into an impossibly tight turn. The MiG pilot, perhaps overconfident in his aircraft’s performance, misjudged his speed. Lichtman’s cannons roared, and the MiG shuddered before bursting into flames. The Egyptian pilot ejected, his parachute billowing against the blue sky as his stricken aircraft plunged toward the desert below.
Despite Israeli victories, the battle was far from one-sided. The MiGs struck hard, their powerful cannons sending Israeli jets limping back to base with heavy damage. One Mystère, piloted by Yakov Nevo, took a direct hit and barely made it back before crash-landing at an airstrip in the Negev. Another Israeli pilot, caught in the crossfire, was forced to eject after his aircraft was torn apart in midair.
For the Egyptian pilots, the fight was just as brutal. Trained by Soviet advisors, they had confidence in their aircraft and their tactics, but they were up against an enemy that was relentless and highly skilled. Some Egyptian MiG pilots managed to score victories, sending Israeli jets plummeting to earth, while others found themselves overwhelmed by the superior tactics and coordination of the IAF.
By the time the last shots were fired that day, the sky over Sinai was littered with smoke trails, burning wreckage, and the distant parachutes of downed pilots drifting to earth. Both sides had taken losses, but the Israelis had gained the upper hand, proving that skill, discipline, and superior tactics could overcome even a technologically advanced adversary.
The dogfights of October 30, 1956, were a turning point in the aerial war over the Sinai. They demonstrated that Israel’s air force, though outnumbered and facing Soviet-made aircraft, could hold its own against the best the Egyptians had to offer. More battles would follow, but the message was clear—the sky belonged to those who fought hardest for it.