"I would kill them like dogs," says Kebab. When he was in the Haganah he was involved in the fighting against the rebels. More than once he has boasted about the new techniques of torture that he claims to have invented.
"What? You are prepared to kill Jews?" asks Nachshe, visibly enraged.
"Jews or not Jews, it doesn’t matter to me. They keep causing trou-ble. You have to deal with them once and for all."
Killing - the solution to all problems. If you get used to the idea of killing for the motherland, you lose all sense of limits. You start with killing Arabs - the "enemy," the "savages of the desert," "intruders," "bandits," "subhumans" - and then you can’t see why you shouldn’t kill Jews who you think are harming the motherland. In the end you are prepared to kill anyone you don’t agree with.
And if killing is OK, then of course rape is no problem. Because rape is, of course, not so terrible as murder. And if you start with abusing Arab women in captured villages - and society smiles about it and winks at you - then of course you can steal. And if it is OK to steal from Arabs, why only Arabs?
* * *
The sun is setting. Time for us to patrol the fence around the camp.
Two Etzel people are standing by the fence, obviously new immi-grants. "Heil Hitler!" shouts one of them. "Gestapo," shouts the other. Both of them raise their arm in the fascist salute, as if we were SS guards. That reminds me that we recently used to greet the sol-diers of the British brigade the same way ourselves.
"To hell with you! Let’s beat them up!" Kebab shouts and tries to get out of the jeep. We have a hard job holding him back.
* * *
It is a cold night. We are freezing pitifully in our thin summer shirts. We are not yet used to operations in the jeep. On our route there are still a few cafes from the days of the British. We have heard that one of them is supposed to be a brothel. Kebab is enthusiastic. First he wanted to chase the cursing Etzel people. Now he has forgotten about that. He talks us into stopping and having a look. We get out, but take our automatic weapons with us - just in case.
The room was once a primitive cafe. A few rickety tables still