On the way back the Arab forgets to put on his blindfold and it makes no difference to me. Why shouldn’t he see the sun once more? Suddenly he begins to shout "Khawaja12 Cohn, Khawaja Cohn" and points excitedly at a group of civilians on the road.
We call the man named Cohn to us. He talks with the prisoner. Cohn is a farmer from Rehovot, and the Arab once worked in his orange grove. He tells us that he knows the Arab as a friend of the Jews. He can vouch for him.
Tarzan and I run to the company commander and tell him. But he is not interested and sends us to the intelligence specialist.
When we storm into the intelligence office someone is sitting there whom we don’t know. Presumably he belongs to one of the non-combatant branches. We quickly tell him the whole story.
When he realizes that we are ordinary soldiers he goes red: "You dare to come crashing in here! Where did you learn to talk to an offi-cer without reporting? Back to the door and stand to attention!"
We feel like giving him a punch on the nose. But we don’t want to annoy him. That could harm the prisoner. We go to the door and stand to attention. "We thought it our duty to report this. Otherwise the men could be killed for no reason."
"What has that got to do with you? Are you trying to tell me how to do my job? Get out before I write a complaint!"
We go out and stay by the door. We don’t know whether to go back in and give him a thrashing or to let matters rest. I console myself with the fact that he did at least make a note of the farmer’s name. Maybe his statement could help after all...
if * *
What happened to the three? I forgot about the matter long ago. Now it suddenly appears very important. Were they set free? Did they return to Sukreir? Then I remember that Sukreir does not exist any more. Before the Egyptians even invaded, the inhabitants were driven out. Two days before I was wounded I was there by chance and saw the new inhabitants of the village. They spoke some strange Slavic language. An abandoned village. One of many.
Another three people. Three drops in this murky sea that is called war...
* * *