The asphalt was still warm from the afternoon sun. At Larnaca International Airport, the hijacked DC-8 sat under the glare of floodlights. Then, the deep thrum of heavy turboprops cut through the tension. An Egyptian Air Force C-130 Hercules, without clearance, landed on the main runway. Its rear ramp dropped before it fully stopped, disgorging fifteen commandos in full combat gear. Their mission: storm the hijacked plane. Their legal standing: nonexistent.
Cypriot National Guard troops, already positioned around the terminal, saw an armed foreign incursion. Shouted orders in Greek and Arabic tangled in the humid air. The first shot’s origin was disputed, but its effect was immediate. Muzzle flashes lit the service vehicles and fuel trucks. The sharp crack of automatic rifle fire echoed off the terminal’s glass facade, mixed with the heavier thump of a mounted machine gun from the Egyptian plane.
Smell of cordite, taste of fear. The commandos, pinned on open tarmac, used the C-130’s wheels and landing gear for cover. Cypriot fire concentrated on the transport aircraft itself. Fuel tanks were hit. A fire started in the wing root, then raced along the fuselage with a low *whoomp*. The flames cast long, dancing shadows of running men. The firefight lasted less than an hour. When it was over, all fifteen Egyptian soldiers were dead. Their burning C-130 became a pyre and a political crisis, its black smoke a stain against the Mediterranean twilight.