"And in addition, they stole cars, a motorcycle, watches, and even fountain pens," he continued. "They are worse than the British."

"It seems to me," I think out loud, "that the British were not so terrible at all. We treat the Arabs less sensitively than the British treated us."

"That may be," he says doubtfully. "I have never thought about that."

I know that our people stole some items from the Etzel battalion. One of them took a motorbike. Jamus and I also got our hands on a nice armchair for our room. We didn’t think twice about it, after spending months stealing the property of the Arabs.

"What do you think of this whole business?" ventures Joske.

"Shall I tell you the truth? Your Begin¹⁰ doesn’t appeal to me at all. I don’t like people who keep talking about war and conquest, and then, when the war comes, they leave the dirty work to others."

"And what about your Ben-Gurion?"

"Quite honestly, I can do without the two of them. They should fight it out between themselves."

* * *

When we get back I notice that one of our people is missing.

"Where is Nachshe?"

Tarzan stares at me. "You didn’t hear what happened?"

"No. I was in Tel Aviv. What was it?"

Tarzan looks at the blue sky, as though there was something inter-esting to see there.

"It was in the evening paper. His brother was killed in Kfar Vitkin."¹¹

"What, was he in the Etzel?"

"Yes. He joined them more by chance than calculation, when the war began."

I turn around and sit down in the jeep. I feel like crying.

275