Striking Back: The 1972 Munich Olympics Massacre and Israel's Deadly Response Read Online Free PDF Page A

themselves about the obvious lack of security in the village, particularly regarding their housing. The uncomfortable feeling intensified as the alacrity of the security ushers abated. The proximity of the Sudanese team’s dorms and the ubiquity of Palestinian workers in the village intensified the general discomfort. Many of the athletes feared they would be attacked during their events. No one considered the possibility of a hostage situation. The fears festering in the minds of the athletes didn’t result in a call to bolster security. They didn’t act, they said, because they assumed that the security forces must be working undercover.” These words do not begin to convey the scandalous enormity of the German, and Israeli, security lapses in Munich.
    On August 23, the chief security officer of the Israeli embassy in Bonn arrived in Munich to inspect the security arrangements—of the Israeli television crews. He met with Lalkin and the head of the Israeli Olympic Committee about “routine security matters,” according to the Kopel Report. Lalkin’s premonition—that his team was in danger—was stronger than ever. He requested a sidearm. The security officer refused.

5                    THE MISSION UNFOLDS
    GERMANY, COLOGNE AIRPORT WEDNESDAY,
AUGUST 23, 1972
    A middle-aged couple waited for their four pieces of luggage to arrive. The man, dressed in a well-tailored suit, hoisted the bags onto two carts. They joined the flow of people walking toward the customs line and the exit beyond.
    The Palestinian man worked as a
saya’an
(a Hebrew security term meaning “helper”—an uninformed, ideologically motivated accomplice) for Fatah and its Black September wing in Europe. The “wife,” another
saya’an,
joined him to lend legitimacy to their cover. The Fatah planners knew that an Arab man, traveling alone, to a city hosting the Olympics, with four bulging suitcases in tow, might raise the suspicions of even the most soporific customs official, putting the entire mission at risk.
    The couple had almost made it through customs when an officer beckoned them aside. The couple pressed together and nervously made their way to the inspection platform. They presented North African passports and were asked to open their identical bags. The husband refused. He began to yell and scream. He was a businessman, not a criminal. He had never been so thoroughly embarrassed in all his travels throughout Europe. Why should he be treated this way? The bored customs officers looked on, eyes half-closed. They had seen this act before, and they knew how it ended—the traveler opened his bags for inspection, end of story. Those who yelled the loudest were often the guiltiest. They had seen plenty of drugs and gold cross their path.
    After yelling for several minutes, the Palestinian lowered his voice and asked the customs officer which bag he should open. The officer picked one. After wiping the sweat from his brow and fiddling for his keys, the man opened the suitcase. The release of the locks popped the lid. Lingerie, in many colors and styles, swamped the inspection desk. The officer motioned to the man: close your case and carry on. He didn’t ask the couple to open their other three pieces of luggage. Eight AK -47 s, dozens of magazines loaded with 7.62 mm bullets, and ten grenades slid by undetected on the wobbly wheels of a trolley.
    The couple left the terminal, rented a roomy car, and drove the 280 miles to Munich. They had no idea what they were transporting or why. They were couriers. Now and again they were told to carry suitcases, letters, and packages. They never asked questions, and had never been caught.
    On arriving in Munich, they followed their instructions to the letter. The couple placed their suitcases in four different lockers in the Munich central railway station and handed the keys over to the concierge of a small, nearby hotel. Hours later, a Black September commander came by the front