there are seven or seventeen or twenty-seven people at the rear... many of us began to wonder why we had to be the one against the seventeen on the other side? Why shouldn’t one of the seventeen change places with us?
Some of those among us could not withstand this temptation. They found themselves a position at the rear, or in the navy or the airforce. They invented a black joke about our brigade: DAWDUFG - "Death alone will discharge us from Givati. "
Most stood firm in this critical situation. They returned to the front. But a bitterness took root in their hearts that would darken the mood at the front in the coming days. They hated the rear. They turned their backs on it.
Battalion HQ
Front and Rear
They are driving to Tel Aviv. For weeks they have been dreaming about this break, were longing for it in their positions and during the battle. Now they are singing.
On the way back from Tel Aviv they are silent. Depressed and weighed down by their thoughts.
* * *
I want to buy tickets for the movies. The line for soldiers is twice as long as the civilian one. Soldiers in smartly pressed uniforms. But something is missing from their faces: that particular expression, that special something which frontline soldiers immediately recog-nize in each other.
I see many familiar faces and ask the men what they are doing. They answer proudly that they are working in an important ministry or a very important institution. I hear about important duties that sound impressive and very significant. And they all have one thing in common - they are far removed from the places where the bullets whistle and the shells explode.
Can anyone at the rear imagine the feelings of a frontline soldier? He signed on for military training when the call came. He spent months in filthy villages and took part in eight, twelve, or maybe fif-teen battles. He saw his comrades die and could not imagine that one