prevented from returning to collect the harvest... kill all people and animals ... burn the barns ..."
The landscape is fantastic. The sun is shining but doesn’t worry us. Most of us are walking around shirtless. We are wearing short trousers in violation of our orders. But no orders can compare with our motto: "Fight and die - in comfort!" On patrols like this one our chances of dying are slim, unless in a traffic accident. The Fellaheen, who occasionally sneak back to harvest some grain for their starving families, are no fighters. They mainly arrive overnight and leave at dawn. We are hardly likely to come across them at this time of day.
At the kibbutz gate an old man gets up, and claims to be a scout.
We drive through the village of Daba. The old woman who Nachshe shot yesterday is still sitting in front of her house, leaning against the door post. She has already begun to stink. The sweetish odor fills the narrow alley sickeningly. Without this stink you would-n’t know that she is dead.
At the end of the village there are some big barns. Wonderful - there we have something to set on fire. If you don’t have a fit of phi-losophizing, then it is really fun. You need some experience, which only comes with repeated practice. You have to start it burning on the side away from the wind. But even then it is by no means certain that the whole thing will burn down. And if only part of it has burned, then you just have to try again another time.
After quarter of an hour all twelve barns are burning. A nice, almost aesthetic sight. At such moments you can understand the Emperor Nero watching Rome burn. In their enthusiasm Jamus and our kibbutz guest also set fire to some nearby mud huts.
Onward. We have to cover the range of hills in the direction of the village of Romajel. As we are crossing the third hill we see a donkey in front of us. A donkey never goes for a walk on its own. There must be people in the area. Boby, the young company commander, urges us on. But Zuzik has already drawn his pistol and jumped out of the jeep. We look on with interest. Can you really shoot a donkey with such a small P.B.?
"It won’t die," Kebab prophesies.
"We’ll see," says Sancho uncertainly.
Zuzik cautiously approaches the donkey. At one meter’s range he shoots it between the eyes. The animal raises its head and gazes at