where is it? Slowly and carefully I feel the area around me. There it is. I put it next to me.

I examine myself. My brain is working -1 congratulate myself on my cool-headedness and try to push some earth aside so I can get my head lower. No good. The earth is as hard as stone. Slowly I lay the tarps in front of me and press my head into them. Well, it’s some kind of protection ...

The bullets keep whistling by. Suddenly it is quiet. Has the enemy withdrawn? Shots can be heard from near the Arab village. I can hear the Arab calls clearly- "Ahmed! Ta’al lahon!"⁷

I can see Shlomo lying diagonally behind me. Next to him is Moshe. Both are hugging the earth like me and cursing quietly. I can’t see anyone else. Everyone is on the ground, keeping still.

Suddenly someone raises themselves from the ground and

crawls back. From his silhouette I can recognize him: Yaakov Rachmilevitch, the company medical orderly.

Only then did I become aware that someone behind me is groan-ing and whimpering. I can’t see who it is.

"Who has got a penknife?"

I dig out my knife and throw it to Shlomo, who crawls to the wounded man. I suppose he needs it to cut through his clothing.

The groaning continues for a while, then suddenly stops. Movement near me. The message is passed on. I hear three awful words: "... he is finished ..."

Anyone else been hit?

We remain on the ground. Absolute quiet all around us. The first shock is over and I can think again. That was our baptism of fire. The platoon was OK, I say to myself. Yes really, the platoon was completely OK. I repeat this sentence over and over. It makes me calm.

"Platoon Number One withdraw!"

I grab the spade, the rifle, the tarps, and crawl backwards to where the platoon is surrounding the corpse on the stretcher. Our orders are to bring him back to Naan.

I will never forget the next two hours, even if my memory is a little hazy. In the company’s history they are recorded as the "Death March."

The dead weigh a lot more than the living. We are carrying the stretcher in addition to our rifles and equipment. We walk, stumble,

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