was killed a few months before the Sinai War by Arab infiltrators who tried to harvest some grain. (He rode up on his horse to scare them off and was shot.) Dayan, who seems to have been uncharacteristically deeply moved, made a short speech, reading, again uncharacteristically, from a prepared text. This is the credo of Dayan who that very day had become forty-one years old:

Let us not today fling accusations at the murderers. Who are we that we should argue against their hatred?

For eight years now, they sit in their refugee camps in Gaza, and before their very eyes, we turn into our homestead the land and the villages in which they and their forefathers have lived.

...We are a generation of settlers, and without the steel helmet and the cannon we cannot plant a tree and build a house.

Let us not shrink back when we see the hatred fermenting and filling the lives of hundreds of thousands of Arabs, who sit all around us. Let us not avert our eyes, so that our hand shall not slip.

This is the fate of our generation, the choice of our lifeto be prepared and armed, strong and tough-or otherwise, the sword will slip from our fist, and our life will be snuffed out.

This is a stark philosophy, the philosophy of a crusader who sees no doors open leading toward peace, who believes that the very thought of peace is demoralizing. On the eve of the Six-Day War, Kol Israel, the Israeli radio, rebroadcast this speech. It was the anniversary of Roy's death -and Dayan's birthday.

* * *

Dayan's is the philosophy of a man who was born in war, who has lived all his life in war, for whom war has always been the focus of thought. All the personal history of Moshe Dayan is intertwined with the Hebrew-Arab struggle.

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