keep your head as low as when you go forwards. The enemy fire is unrelenting. Menachem shouts his commands, but they can hardly be heard above the noise of the firing. All weapons, both ours and those of the enemy, are giving everything they can.
Suddenly Menachem falls silent. Nachman calls to him but gets no answer. He crawls over and finds him sitting with lowered head. He touches him and his hand is covered in blood. For a moment Nachman loses his composure.
Menachem groans. Micki and Reuven take him on their backs and walk back through the hail of bullets. They know that every minute is critical with a head wound. But they also know that the wounded man should be kept as still as possible. They lie him on the ground, and Micki runs back to get the medic from the second assault wave.
Israel runs over. He bandages Menachem’s head. He is still alive, but seems to have lost consciousness. He is put on a stretcher and moved away as quickly as possible.
Only ten men remain from the first assault wave. Nachman takes over command. The men have steadied themselves. They want to attack, now, immediately! The desire for revenge is burning in them. They are sure that the building can be taken. But the order does not come. Amnon, in command of the second assault wave, is in radio contact with the commander of the operation. He does not advance. He has received the order to retreat.
* * *
Everyone is thinking of Menachem. Everyone knows that he is dead.
Menachem was in the platoon for only a few days. But in this short time he won the hearts of the men. Just ten days ago - after an exhausting night of battle - we had to transport heavy stone blocks from one side of the camp to the other. He took off his shirt and joined in.
And another picture of him remained with us. A very disturbing picture. The day before yesterday, after the first attack on the cursed police, Menachem permitted us an "unofficial" leave. Instead of dri-ving back to the base, we simply spent two hours in Tel Aviv. For almost a month we hadn’t seen the town or our parents. Menachem himself got out in Allenby Street to catch a bus. Suddenly there was a cry of "Menachem" and a small, roundish, older woman fell on him, hugging and kissing him in the middle of the street. The collection of