Manufacturer: Matchbox/Revell
Scale: 1/72
Additional parts: decals
Model build: Aug-Sep 2016

Manufacturer: Matchbox/Revell
Scale: 1/72
Additional parts: decals
Model build: Aug-Sep 2016
Captain Emil Thalmann gripped the control stick, his knuckles white. Rain lashed against the canopy of his Saab J29, blurring the already treacherous peaks of the Swiss Alps. It was a fool's errand to be flying in these conditions, but engine trouble had left him with few choices.
Thalmann wasn't new to piloting the "Tönnli" - the affectionate nickname the Swiss Air Force had given their fleet of Saab J29s. He'd put in countless hours soaring through the crisp mountain air, the tiny jet fighter surprisingly nimble against the backdrop of snow-capped giants. But today, the mountains seemed less majestic, more like menacing shadows closing in.
Suddenly, the engine sputtered and coughed, a plume of black smoke trailing behind. Thalmann cursed under his breath. He tried every trick in the book to coax the engine back to life, but it was no use. The Tönnli was a glider now, and the only question was where it would land.
Below, a tiny speck emerged from the swirling mist - Bendern, a small town nestled in the valley of Liechtenstein. It was a long shot, but Thalmann steered the Tönnli towards it, praying for a miracle.
The emergency landing was a harrowing affair. The Tönnli screeched down the main street, scattering bewildered townsfolk before coming to a rest in a farmer's field. Thankfully, there were no injuries, but the incident caused an international stir.
Liechtenstein, a perpetually neutral country, had never possessed a military force, let alone a jet fighter. The tiny nation, wedged between Switzerland and Austria, was more famous for its banks than its airpower. Now, they had a grounded Tönnli sitting in a field, a symbol of unintended military might.
Swiss-Liechtenstein relations, normally cordial, became strained. The Swiss demanded the return of their aircraft, while Liechtenstein, ever cautious about neutrality, expressed concerns about harboring a weapon of war. The situation became a media spectacle, with newspapers around the world running headlines like "Tiny Country Holds Giant Fighter Hostage."
Thalmann, shaken but unharmed, found himself at the center of the diplomatic crisis. He became an unlikely ambassador, assuring the people of Bendern that the Tönnli posed no threat. The townsfolk, in turn, surprised him with their hospitality. They offered him food, shelter, and even yodeling lessons - a decidedly unmilitary activity.
Behind the scenes, negotiations went on. Eventually, a compromise was reached. The Swiss agreed to dismantle the Tönnli's weapons systems before retrieving it. Liechtenstein, relieved to be rid of the unwanted firepower, allowed the technicians in.
As the Tönnli was taken apart, piece by piece, a strange sense of camaraderie emerged between the Swiss and the Liechtensteiner people. They had both been caught in an absurd situation, and facing it together had fostered a newfound respect.
Captain Thalmann eventually returned to Switzerland, a hero not for his flying skills, but for his unwitting role in a diplomatic comedy. The Tönnli incident became a legend, a reminder that sometimes the biggest conflicts can be resolved with a little understanding and a shared yodel.

In the immediate aftermath of the Second World War, the Swiss Air Force—keen to maintain neutrality but unwilling to fall behind technologically—moved rapidly to adopt jet aircraft. The first de Havilland Vampire Mk I was tested by Swiss pilots in 1946, marking the dawn of the jet age over the Alps.
A few years later, attention shifted to Sweden, another neutral nation with its own aerospace ambitions. The Saab J29 “Tunnan,” first flown in 1948, impressed the Swiss with its advanced swept-wing design and rugged airframe suitable for austere airfields. In 1950, test flights were conducted from Emmen Air Base, and Swiss evaluation pilots praised its high-altitude performance—crucial for operations in alpine environments.
By mid-1951, Switzerland ordered 78 Saab J29CH (“CH” for Confédération Helvétique). These aircraft featured reinforced landing gear for short mountain runways, improved de-icing systems and upgraded oxygen equipment. In Switzerland, the aircraft was affectionately nicknamed “Tönnli”—Swiss German for little barrel.
The J29CH entered service in 1952, first with Fliegerstaffel 15 and Fliegerstaffel 21. Throughout the 1950s and early 1960s, the silver-painted Tönnli became a familiar sight across the Swiss sky, roaring above snow-covered peaks and narrow valleys in low-level flight exercises.
Though popular with pilots, the type was not without risk. Between 1952 and 1970, seven aircraft were lost in accidents, including:
Three crashes in poor weather in the Valais and Grisons regions;
One collision with a cable car support mast near Engelberg (no civilian casualties);
Two mid-air collisions during formation flying;
And one aircraft famously making an unscheduled landing abroad…
On 22 October 1963, J29CH No. J-4037, piloted by Oberleutnant Hanspeter Würsch, suffered a sudden loss of hydraulic pressure during a routine training sortie over Eastern Switzerland. With his control systems partially unresponsive and fog closing in, Würsch attempted to reach the emergency landing strip at St. Gallen-Altenrhein—but altitude and fuel were insufficient.
Instead, he aimed for the only flat terrain in sight: the Rhine Valley near the village of Bendern—inside the Principality of Liechtenstein.
The landing was rough but controlled. The Tönnli tore through a field, clipped a barn roof, and came to rest beside a flock of very surprised sheep. No one was hurt.
What followed was one of the most unusual diplomatic episodes in post-war Europe.
Liechtenstein, which had no air force of its own (or even an army), acted swiftly:
Local police cordoned off the aircraft.
Farmers posed for photographs beside the jet.
And the Liechtenstein government formally declared the aircraft “temporarily impounded.”
Newspapers humorously declared that Liechtenstein now possessed one of the world’s smallest air forces: one pilotless jet fighter, no pilots, no fuel.
Switzerland apologized, citing emergency circumstances. However, the principality demanded compensation for damaged farmland, barn repairs, and—most controversially—“psychological stress caused to livestock.”
After six weeks of negotiations, the aircraft was dismantled, transported back to Switzerland by truck, and the principality received:
12,500 Swiss Francs in compensation;
A new barn roof;
And a promise that no armed Swiss aircraft would enter Liechtenstein airspace without prior notice.
To this day, the incident remains the only time Liechtenstein officially “captured” a jet fighter.
By the 1970s, the J29CH was considered outdated. The last operational Tönnli was retired in 1972 and replaced by the Hawker Hunter. Most were scrapped; a handful survive in museums in Dübendorf, Lucerne, and one—humorously nicknamed the “Fürstlich-Liechtensteinisches Jagdflugzeug”—in a tiny local exhibition in Bendern.
The Saab J29CH remains a beloved chapter of Swiss aviation history: loud, stubby, temperamental—and once, briefly, the pride of Liechtenstein.

The model is an OOB build of the 1:72 scale Matchbox J29 kit, re-released by Revell. Painted with Revell Aqua color, some decals of a Swiss F-5 were used to give it a "Swiss" look.