ordinary soldier. One little ant in the great ant-hill of the front. He is unknown at HQ. There they don’t even know the name Ibdis. But still this dead man has made history on this day.
The heavy vehicle struggles across the cratered ground, rolling from side to side, but somehow manages to reach the road. We breathe in deeply as though we have just awoken from a nightmare. But no more than five hours have passed since we arrived on that hill.
Three Spitfires9 fly in our direction. The driver accelerates and we hold onto the wounded to stop them falling out. But the aircraft take no notice of us. They fly to the hill, circle once, and drop their bombs. Above the hill of Ibdis smoke and dust clouds rise into the air.
The battle for Negba and Ibdis raged for four days. It was the Israeli infantryman, bleeding and red-eyed, who held this narrow strip of ground that the Egyptians needed at any price. He was the real hero of the most terrible battle of this war, the simple rifleman of the infantry. He stood against tanks, aircraft, artillery, and mortar shells. He stood up to them - and he did not give in.
The jeeps raced back and forth between the infantry positions. The seven jeeps of the "Motorized Company." They achieved true miracles. In these four days they drove across the open fields so many times. They brought the fighters urgently needed ammunition, saved the lives of hundreds of wounded, and drove the enemy back again and again with unexpected bursts of fire.
Along with the ammunition boxes, the P1AT rounds, and the mortar bombs, the jeeps also transported small packets of printed papers. The frontline fighters were as impatient for these as for the ammunition itself. The papers went from hand to hand and were read underfire and in the most critical moments. Read until the soldiers knew the text by heart.
During the battle for Ibdis the brigade bulletin evolved into its final form. For us it was like a motivating crack of the whip. It explained our modest contribution in the context of the whole front. It forged the com-panies and the battalions into one unit, into one beating heart - the Givati Brigade.
The bulletin appeared daily. At the top were two brutal words - the brigade motto, "Mavet LaPolshim!" (Death to the Invaders!). A special relationship developed between the bulletin and the brigade. It was as if