game.”
“Dado, did you mean what you told those kibbutzniks?”
“Every word.”
“How do you propose to make enmity unendurable for the Arabs?”
“Kill the terrorists they send in,” Dado coldly growled from behind him, “and keep killing them. Grind the bones of their
armies whenever they try war. War is crazy, it’s horrible and disgusting, but we have to fight to exist. They don’t. They
can’t get it into their heads that we can live in peace side by side. One day they will, when they become good and tired of
dying for the Russians.”
“That’s not what they think they’re doing.”
“No. It’ll take time for them to understand, maybe a generation, maybe two. But then peace will come.”
Far down the road a lone girl soldier appeared in the headlights, gesturing for a hitch. “Pick her up,” Dado said. She climbed
in beside the driver without a glance at the back seat, a plump baby-face in baggy fatigues, juggling a rifle. “Are you crazy,”
inquired Dado from behind her, “breaking regulations, out here by yourself in the middle of the night?”
She pointed a pudgy finger at twinkling lights on a hill. “My boyfriend lives in that moshav.”
“Then why didn’t you stay the night?”
“We had a fight. I hate him.”
“If you were brought up on charges before Dado,” said Kishote, “he’d throw you out of the army.”
“Dado?” She noisily yawned. “Ha! He’d just try to screw me.”
Elazar gave Yossi a hard poke in the back. Yossi said, “Maybe you’re thinking of General Dayan.”
“Oh, the big brass are all the same,” said the girl. “Sex maniacs. The higher the worse. How far are you going?”
“Headquarters Commanding Officer North,” said Yossi. “Don’t you realize that terrorists roam in the night around here?”
“So what? So I shouldn’t go on living?”
“Life is bearable for you, then?” asked Dado.
“Life is fine since we won the war. That’ll hold them for a while. They need a good bloody nose every few years. God, I’m
tired. Wake me when you get to Afula.” She snuggled down, the rifle between her knees.
“At your service,” said Dado. After a while, when the girl slumped asleep, he said, “ ‘Every few years.’ The kids know, don’t
they?”
“It’s their skins,” said Kishote. “Maybe the
Eilat
will wake up the others.”
T he helicopter thrashed to earth in a heavy rain, whirling streams off the blades. Kishote greeted Dayan and brought him to
the Northern Commander’s map-lined office, where Dado waited alone. “Forty-seven dead or missing from the
Eilat
,” Dayan began abruptly, fixing them with his good eye. “More than a hundred wounded. The question is how we hit back. The
American State Department is asking us to
‘show restraint.’
” The crooked smile appeared. “Any votes for restraint?”
“I’ve been thinking it over. Sink the missile boats,” said Dado. “Every one of them. Blow for blow, redoubled. Are their locations
known?”
“Pinpointed in Port Said. The air force is ready to do it, but there are Soviet vessels in the harbor, including a cruiser
and some destroyers. Nasser shot from behind that shield. Still, the Egyptian radio is warning the people to expect reprisal.
Nasser knows we’ve got to do something.”
Kishote asked, “Minister, how did he dare, when Motti Hod can level Cairo?”
“Don’t be naive, Yossi.” Dayan shook his head impatiently. “Levelling Cairo is nonsense and Nasser knows that. Politically,
Egypt holds all the cards —”
“All the cards?” protested Elazar. “Why? How? We crushed them, we sit on strong defensible lines, and —”
Dayan interrupted. “I said
politically
, Dado. Superpower political odds, three to one for the Arabs — Russians a hundred percent for them, Americans
‘evenhanded,’
fifty-fifty. Understand? Plus of course France, England, that whole European schmear, plus the Third World, whatever that
“Dado, did you mean what you told those kibbutzniks?”
“Every word.”
“How do you propose to make enmity unendurable for the Arabs?”
“Kill the terrorists they send in,” Dado coldly growled from behind him, “and keep killing them. Grind the bones of their
armies whenever they try war. War is crazy, it’s horrible and disgusting, but we have to fight to exist. They don’t. They
can’t get it into their heads that we can live in peace side by side. One day they will, when they become good and tired of
dying for the Russians.”
“That’s not what they think they’re doing.”
“No. It’ll take time for them to understand, maybe a generation, maybe two. But then peace will come.”
Far down the road a lone girl soldier appeared in the headlights, gesturing for a hitch. “Pick her up,” Dado said. She climbed
in beside the driver without a glance at the back seat, a plump baby-face in baggy fatigues, juggling a rifle. “Are you crazy,”
inquired Dado from behind her, “breaking regulations, out here by yourself in the middle of the night?”
She pointed a pudgy finger at twinkling lights on a hill. “My boyfriend lives in that moshav.”
“Then why didn’t you stay the night?”
“We had a fight. I hate him.”
“If you were brought up on charges before Dado,” said Kishote, “he’d throw you out of the army.”
“Dado?” She noisily yawned. “Ha! He’d just try to screw me.”
Elazar gave Yossi a hard poke in the back. Yossi said, “Maybe you’re thinking of General Dayan.”
“Oh, the big brass are all the same,” said the girl. “Sex maniacs. The higher the worse. How far are you going?”
“Headquarters Commanding Officer North,” said Yossi. “Don’t you realize that terrorists roam in the night around here?”
“So what? So I shouldn’t go on living?”
“Life is bearable for you, then?” asked Dado.
“Life is fine since we won the war. That’ll hold them for a while. They need a good bloody nose every few years. God, I’m
tired. Wake me when you get to Afula.” She snuggled down, the rifle between her knees.
“At your service,” said Dado. After a while, when the girl slumped asleep, he said, “ ‘Every few years.’ The kids know, don’t
they?”
“It’s their skins,” said Kishote. “Maybe the
Eilat
will wake up the others.”
T he helicopter thrashed to earth in a heavy rain, whirling streams off the blades. Kishote greeted Dayan and brought him to
the Northern Commander’s map-lined office, where Dado waited alone. “Forty-seven dead or missing from the
Eilat
,” Dayan began abruptly, fixing them with his good eye. “More than a hundred wounded. The question is how we hit back. The
American State Department is asking us to
‘show restraint.’
” The crooked smile appeared. “Any votes for restraint?”
“I’ve been thinking it over. Sink the missile boats,” said Dado. “Every one of them. Blow for blow, redoubled. Are their locations
known?”
“Pinpointed in Port Said. The air force is ready to do it, but there are Soviet vessels in the harbor, including a cruiser
and some destroyers. Nasser shot from behind that shield. Still, the Egyptian radio is warning the people to expect reprisal.
Nasser knows we’ve got to do something.”
Kishote asked, “Minister, how did he dare, when Motti Hod can level Cairo?”
“Don’t be naive, Yossi.” Dayan shook his head impatiently. “Levelling Cairo is nonsense and Nasser knows that. Politically,
Egypt holds all the cards —”
“All the cards?” protested Elazar. “Why? How? We crushed them, we sit on strong defensible lines, and —”
Dayan interrupted. “I said
politically
, Dado. Superpower political odds, three to one for the Arabs — Russians a hundred percent for them, Americans
‘evenhanded,’
fifty-fifty. Understand? Plus of course France, England, that whole European schmear, plus the Third World, whatever that
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