22 June 1948
Sarafand
The tents of the Palmach
It was ten in the evening when we arrived back from our patrol. We had spent the whole day in our jeeps. A very boring task. We will have to report again for duty at two in the morning, and don’t feel like wasting the few remaining hours in our barracks. We need some diversion. But our own base is far away and we don’t know our way around here.
Somehow we hear that the Cameri Theater is performing "He Walked Through The Fields," a successful theatrical production of the novel by Moshe Shamir. We read about it in the paper and are keen to see it.
"They won’t let anyone in," says somebody. "Even Palmach people from other units were kept out. They certainly wouldn’t let the army in."
"Are we commandos or not?" asked Dov Kirschenbaum.
"Yes,but..."
"So? We’ll storm the place!"
The big sports hall is surrounded by people. No more room inside. Bearded young soldiers, the victors of many a battle, cannot force their way into the hall. Laughable ...
Inside the lights go out. The performance is beginning and we are still outside. Dov and I go to the back entrance to the hall. I try out a really old trick. I knock on the rear stage door and ask naively: "Excuse me. Is Batya Lanzet there?" But on the other side is a muscu-lar soldier who is not naive, and who slams the door in my face. That annoys me. What is this all about? Are we commandos or not? A group from the Fourth Battalion is standing by one of the side doors. When they are let in we squeeze through with them. Finally we have made it.
All the seats in the hall are taken, and you can’t see anything from the standing places. Dov gets two boxes. When we stand on them we can see the stage. But hear anything? The honorable spectators won’t even consider making do with the passive role of an audience. "A play direct from the life of the Palmach" as it says on the billboards in Tel Aviv. And here it is concrete reality.