We go to the trench where I was sitting with Ovadia the day before. I dismantle and reassemble the weapon. David just sits there. I try and shoot. Nothing happens.
An aircraft above us has noticed the antenna of the nearby radio operator, and dives toward us with machine guns barking. Of all the awful noises in the world this is the very worst. We try to hide behind what little cover there is. The plane flies past, climbs again, and goes back to flying its leisurely circles.
Suddenly Reuven appears. I can hardly recognize him. Reuven is the ultimate in coolness under fire. Now he looks like a lunatic. His face is green and he is foaming at the mouth. I call to him, and he joins us.
* * *
The radio operator reports to the commander that a company is on its way to relieve him. He hardly reacts. He is no longer even capable of being pleased.
Reuven and I decide that the time has come to return to our own company. We wake David from his trance and climb into a deep wadi by the rearward hill. In the wadi about thirty wounded are lying. Most of them are "lightly" injured, with bullet or shrapnel wounds in their arms or legs. The seriously wounded have already been removed by our jeeps in a ride of death across the open field. Most of the wounded lie there silently, looking at the sky. Some are groaning, others recount how they were wounded. All are smeared with blood.
* * *
The relief force has arrived. A company from the same battalion. Around one hundred healthy lads. How many of them will still be healthy in an hour’s time? They know how things are. But still they march forwards, into the deadly trenches. The vehicles arrive one by one. The men jump out and go straight to the front. After a few min-utes the ones who are being replaced climb into the wadi. How many of them? Less than thirty. They arrived here twelve hours ago. Then there were more than a hundred. But in these twelve hours of 10 July Ibdis stood firm - while the surrounding world raged, the air shiv-ered, and the earth shook.
* * *
We load some of the wounded into a pickup and climb on ourselves. Someone is lying between my legs. I look at his face. He is dead. His eyes stare emptily at me. One of the defenders of Ibdis. He was just an