Entebbe raid’s unsung hero gets limelight in new documentary 50 years later

If you ask people who the hero of the Entebbe Raid of 1976 was, Israeli commando Yoni Netanyahu or Air France Pilot Michel Bacos will likely be mentioned. Very few, if any, would name passenger Michel Cojot, even though without him, the IDF special forces operation that saved 103 hostages would probably never have succeeded.

A new documentary by Boaz Dvir celebrates this unsung hero. “To Kill A Nazi” premieres in New York on June 22 and will have other screenings in Croatia and online this summer. The film is narrated by award-winning Jewish actor Jason Alexander.

“I was nine years old and growing up in Israel when Entebbe happened. I was riveted and followed developments minute by minute. Air France captain Michel Bacos became a big hero for me. Here was this non-Jewish French guy who was given the chance to leave but chose to stay with his Israeli and Jewish passengers,” filmmaker and journalism professor Dvir said.

“Fast forward years later, and I decided to make a short documentary on him… and I was shocked to discover that although there was a hero named Michel among the hostages, it was not Michel Bacos! It was Michel Cojot,” he said.

On June 27, 1976, French business consultant Cojot and his 12-year-old son, Olivier, were passengers aboard Air France flight 139 from Tel Aviv to Paris. The plane made a scheduled stop in Athens to pick up more passengers. Just after takeoff, the plane was hijacked by four terrorists: two Palestinians from the Palestinian Front for the Liberation of Palestine – External Operations, and two West Germans from the Revolutionary Cells. The plane was diverted to Benghazi, Libya, for refueling, and then on to Entebbe, Uganda, where it was welcomed by dictatorial president Idi Amin. Amin lent troops to assist the hijackers, mainly in guarding the abandoned airport terminal where the 303 passengers and 12 crew members were being held hostage.

The hijackers demanded a ransom of $5 million, as well as the release of 53 Palestinian and pro-Palestinian terrorists, 40 of whom were prisoners in Israel. They said that if these demands were not met, they would begin killing hostages on July 1. On June 29, the hijackers separated the Israelis, including those with dual citizenship, and some non-Israeli Jews from the rest of the hostages.

On June 30, they released 47 hostages from the non-Israeli group — mainly the elderly and sick, and mothers with children. Cojot’s son, Olivier, was among them. When Israel signaled on July 1 that it was open to negotiations, the hijackers extended the deadline to July 4 and released 100 more non-Israelis and non-Jews.

Throughout, Cojot stepped up as a leader. He translated when Idi Amin came regularly to address the hostages. He negotiated with the hijackers to improve conditions for all the hostages and aligned himself with the Israeli group. Although not a military man or a spy by training, he slyly gleaned information from the hijackers and made notes on the building’s layout, the tarmac, and the surrounding area, as well as on the fighting capabilities of the hijackers and Ugandan soldiers. He took the brave step of having Olivier smuggle the material out in his jeans cuff, but the boy, excited to be home, forgot about passing it to the authorities and let his mother put the pants in the wash.

Cojot was released on July 1, and the Mossad immediately contacted him upon his arrival in Paris. The detailed information he provided made Operation Thunderbolt (the raid’s official military title) possible.

“No one in the Israeli political or military leadership would have denied this — including [then-]prime minister Yitzhak Rabin and [then-]defense minister Shimon Peres,” Dvir said.

From would-be killer to lifesaver

The twist in Cojot’s story is that he, a man whose brave actions played a key role in the ultimate saving of so many lives, was ready to take a life only a year earlier.

Seeking vengeance for the arrest, deportation, and murder of his father, Joseph Goldberg, in the Holocaust, Cojot had schemed to track down and kill “the Butcher of Lyon,” Klaus Barbie. Having discovered that Barbie had escaped to Bolivia after the war, Cojot moved his work and family to South America for the express purpose of assassinating the Nazi. However, when Cojot, holding a gun, was just meters from Barbie, he couldn’t pull the trigger.

After Entebbe, Cojot went on with his life and hardly ever spoke about his role in everything that happened there. Instead, he turned his attention back to Barbie. He worked tirelessly to do what he could to bring the Nazi to justice. He kept Barbie’s crimes against humanity in the public spotlight by writing articles and lobbying French leaders and internationally for Barbie to be extradited to France. The extradition finally took place in 1983, and Cojot testified at the ensuing trial. Barbie was sentenced to life in prison and died in 1991 in his cell.

The following is an interview with filmmaker Dvir, edited for length and clarity.

The Times of Israel: Tell me about the moment the subject of your film project changed from Air France pilot Michel Bacos to French-Jewish business consultant Michel Cojot.

It was when I interviewed Michel Bacos in 2008 or 2009… I was excited to meet him. He was a great guy, very charming. He was around 89 at that point. Halfway through the interview, my heart sank. I realized the premise with which I had come into this interview was completely wrong. It was untrue that he and the rest of the crew had voluntarily stayed with the hostages and refused to be released. I figured this out based on the information he was volunteering as we spoke. Bacos and the crew were never given the option to leave.

For example, Bacos said the plane was one of the brand-new Airbus planes. It was computerized and very sophisticated. He said no one could operate or refuel it other than him and his crew. Wilfried Böse, who was the head hijacker, wasn’t going to let Bacos and the crew go. He needed them to prepare and fly the plane for [what he intended to be an ultimate] hostage-prisoner exchange.

Also, Bacos said that he was given the option to be released with the first group of hostages on June 30 and refused. But that group consisted of the elderly, sick, and mothers with children. That didn’t add up because neither Bacos nor the other crew members qualified.

The passengers I spoke with told me that Bacos went off into his own corner. Unlike the flight engineer Jacques Lemoine, he didn’t even speak with the Israelis and showed no solidarity with them. I interviewed Lemoine at his house, looked him in the eye, and asked if he [and the other crew] had been given the chance to leave. He said no. I asked him why, and he gave me several reasons. One was the widely held assumption that, if a rescue mission were attempted, it would be led by France, which had long-range jets stationed at its African bases. So they needed the French crew to remain as a bargaining chip to deter any such operation.

Ilan Hartuv, the Israeli Foreign Ministry employee, was a hostage with his mother Dora Bloch, who was left behind in the hospital and killed by Ugandan soldiers. He was the leader of the Israeli group and became the [event’s] historian. He said there was never, ever a chance for Bacos and his crew to leave. Hartuv and all the other hostages I interviewed all said Cojot was the real hero.

Once you realized that the Entebbe hero to look into was Michel Cojot, what research and reporting did you do, and how long did it take you?

Boaz Dvir: It took a decade. I had no idea who Cojot was. I had never heard of him, and there wasn’t much online about him. I was scrambling to get more primary research. One of the hostages mentioned Cojot’s son, Olivier, whom I wanted to speak with for sure because he had been in Entebbe with his father. Someone heard I was trying to find Olivier, and he connected me with him. I met with Olivier right away in Paris, and everything kind of flowed from there. I personally did all the interviews with the people who appear in the film, except for Michel Cojot himself, who died in 1999. So, for him, I used an interview he gave to the Shoah Foundation, one he gave in Israel, and his testimony from the Klaus Barbie trial.

It took me so long to make the film because, as with all my documentaries, I triangulate all the information. I can’t just use something, even if it’s a credible primary source or an eyewitness. I need it corroborated. I need to see it in primary documents. I need to hear it independently from someone else, and not in the same room. In this case, I was an even bigger stickler for this process. I triple-checked the triangulation because so much of the story seemed so unbelievable.

These days, many documentaries incorporate animation. Explain your decision to do so.

It was an early decision for me. It was back before a lot of people were using animation. It was very controversial, and I got a lot of flak for it. For me, it was crucial. More than an artistic decision, it was a journalistic and storytelling one. My choices for parts [of the film] without visual representations were reenactments or animation. I felt that reenactments ran counter to the spirit of this film. I take an understated approach: I tell the story as is, ensure it is accurate, and leave plenty of room for viewers to make up their own minds, draw their own conclusions, and form their own interpretations. I used a surreal, minimalist animation style that allows the audience to picture what took place in their minds, rather than my trying to force images through reenactments.

Michel Cojot had a complex and contradictory personality. What was it like “living” with him for the many years you were making this film?

Looking back, I recognize that all my protagonists fit a sort of template. They are ordinary, and they live ordinary lives. Then something extraordinary happens, and they’re asked to rise to the occasion, and they have to change. The difference with Cojot is that those key moments that forced him to rise up happened not once, but several times. They happened when he was four, and his dad disappeared. They happen again when he’s chasing Barbie. They happen again in Entebbe. Each time he has to rise up in a different way, change, and adjust. That’s what makes him even more unique than the others. I think it was always important for Cojot to be courageous. At Entebbe, he finds his voice and insight, and I think he realizes that true courage is not taking a life but saving one.

Cojot did not know he was Jewish until his research into his father’s disappearance revealed that he was killed in Auschwitz. Cojot was in his 30s by then, and up to that point, did not hold positive associations with Jews. How did his and his children’s relationship with Judaism change after Entebbe?

After discovering his Jewish background, Cojot went to Israel to do some pro bono work and see what the country was like.

Then, in Entebbe, it all came together. He realized what it meant to truly be courageous, and he saw that the Jews are really courageous, too. Does that mean he’s perfect after that, and everything is completely on track? No, but he does become as whole as this guy could ever be.

After Entebbe, he moved to Israel and bought a home there. His three children spent summers with him. After a few years, he decided to return to France. Later in life, Cojot’s partner was a Jewish woman, with whom he had a fourth child. All of Cojot’s children identify as Jewish and have embraced their heritage. They changed their last name to Cojot-Goldberg to reclaim their identity. The oldest son, Olivier, moved to Florida and is an active member of his local Jewish community and synagogue.