would not be difficult to reorganize those assembled into the staff of a combat battalion.
One of the officers at the other end of the table elaborates on the strategic visions he is drawing on the tablecloth. "First we advance to the Jordan. Jenin and Nablus,7 we can take without difficulty..."
"And what losses will that mean in your opinion?" I ask calmly.
"That doesn’t matter," he declares with a lofty motion of the hand. "In this historic moment one cannot talk about losses. Our youth is ready for any sacrifice." He looks about twenty-four and I imagine how old he would look during an infantry assault.
"The southern front is not active enough ..." continues the ama-teur strategist. I would dearly like to simplify matters and beat him up. But if the Military Police catch me, they will find out that I am in town without a pass.
"Come on, I’ll take you home," I suggest to Yucki.
"But I would like to stay here," she tries to persuade me. The glori-ous company of the upper ranks, the famous names have impressed her. She would like to use the opportunity to get to know the famous people a bit closer.
"I can take you home in my car later," proposes the conqueror of the Jordan, pointing at a military vehicle by the side of the road.
"Wonderful," I reply gladly.
"You don’t mind?" Yucki asks politely.
"Not at all, not at all," I assure her. Thank God. I can go straight home and get some sleep. I still have five hours.
"So," the strategist elaborates, "after we have taken Jenin and Nablus, we will continue with a pincer movement..."