the day will come/It will be good, that I promise you/I will hold you in my arms/And tell you - everything ..."
I think about the battle that lies before us. Will we win? And what about the next one? I am convinced that it will be a long war, and that the regular armies of the neighboring countries will cross the border.
We spend the whole day sitting in a lonely field near Ramat Aharon.2 We are supplied with hand grenades, a very unpopular weapon. Senior officers come to inspect us. The old hands know their names. The one in the green camouflage outfit, that’s Chaim Laskov,3 and that one there with blond hair, that’s Shimon "Givati".4
In the afternoon we each fire five shots to test our rifles. For the first time we smell the acrid aroma of cordite. For the first time our shoulders feel the kick of a rifle.
Toward evening we drive to Kibbutz Naan. Later in the evening, after dark, we should be in Hulda.
The operation is called "Nachshon."
Forward base Hulda5
The first casualties
As soon as it is dark we set out - a long row of staff people, infantry, machine gun crews, auxiliary troops, and others. It doesn’t sound like much to us - a night march of four miles. Of course we know that there are Arab villages in the area. But nobody sees any significance in that.
Now and then the line stops. It seems the scouts in front are check-ing something. Occasionally whispered orders are passed back along the line.
"Six feet separation from man to man!"
"Close up the gaps!"
"No noise!"
"Everyone there?"
Somewhere a light is flashing. That’s where the camp is, someone tells us, the one we are heading for. But the light seems to get further away the more we walk toward it.
We cross a wadi.6 The water is a few inches deep. I jump, slip, and scrabble to remain upright. Joske, the squad leader, is in