by Uzi Eilam
At this stage, Nahari declared a break in the discussion, intending to continue from the point at which the head of the Research Division had ended his presentation. He signaled to Gideon to stay in the room, and asked his assistants to leave him alone with Gideon.
“I wanted to hear your impression of what we heard in the survey by the head of my Research Division,” Nahari began. “I assume that the factual portion didn’t include any information that was new to you. So, what do you think?”
“I’m not sure there’s any news here, but I feel like there’s something on the tip of my tongue…”
“And you can’t express that something? Some angle from which to approach it?”
“Not yet. The truth is, Yitzhak, that I feel like there’s a glass wall across from me, and I’m visible through it, while I can’t see a thing…”
“What do you intend to do? Why don’t you take some time off from all the information that’s accumulated, and focus on looking inward?”
“I think it’s time to summon Dan Avni, even though the young couple deserves a honeymoon. My daughter Noam contacted me yesterday and said that it’s important that Dan be here with me. I suggest you authorize it, and then I’ll talk to him and ask him to make arrangements to come here as soon as possible.”
“That’s fine with me, Gideon, but it doesn’t replace the need to look inward, as I mentioned earlier.”
“Will do, Yitzhak.”
* * *
11Talpiot is a prestigious IDF training program for recruits demonstrating outstanding academic ability in the sciences. Graduates pursue higher education while serving in the army and use their expertise to further IDF research and development in technological leadership positions.
Chapter 9
In his assigned office, Gideon felt entirely at ease. This was the perfect place, he thought, to start thinking in unknown directions.
Gideon closed his eyes and tried not to think of anything; however, the questions surfaced nevertheless.
What would Dad do in a situation like this? He would examine the situation and analyze the events, with the sharp scalpel of logic, stage by stage, Gideon recalled. His father’s death in a terrorist attack, one of the first to occur after the establishment of the State of Israel, filled his consciousness once more, along with all the pain of losing a parent. Gideon remembered the feeling of being left alone in the world, and the decision to forge a new path for himself. He wasn’t seeking revenge, but rather wished to create a force capable of defending against such attacks. Volunteering to serve in the IDF’s Paratroopers Brigade was an almost obvious step. A pivotal event from the beginning of his career as a young officer flooded him with memories.
***
The night was quiet, dark and chilly. The only sound in evidence was the breathing of the commando fighters as they strode swiftly in their combat boots with the crepe soles. The Paratrooper Brigade force had just crossed the border at a point in the southern end of the Ta’anakh region. This was an agricultural stretch of land established for many years now south of the city of Afula, spread out along the border with the northern West Bank, which was controlled by Jordan, and inhabited by immigrants from Kurdistan, Morocco, Tunisia and Poland.
“Min hada?—Who is this?” a sudden sharp call rang out, tearing through the silence of the night.
Eliezer, the patrol commander, knew it was a Jordanian stakeout, and the paratroopers clung tightly to the weapons in their hands.
“Hada jeish!—This is the army!” Eliezer answered the Jordanian call.
“Shu jeish?—Which army?” the call sounded again, this time with a note of tension.
“Jeish al Arab!—The Arab army!” Eliezer replied, hoping to quietly bypass the stakeout.
The Jordanian force reacted swiftly with a short barrage of shots passing over the warriors’ heads. A tense silence ensued, with each side tautly preparing for the actions of the other.
“Attack! Now!” Eliezer whispered to his people, leaping with his Uzi submachine gun, his team members following him as one. The Jordanians had time to fire one more barrage before they were hit and killed by the paratroopers’ volley of shots. As he led the assault, Eliezer suddenly felt an immense pinching blow in his side, which knocked him to the ground. Several seconds later, Eliezer, along with his men, realized that he had been badly injured by the volley of shots, and that his thighbone was shattered.
The light of dawn began to illuminate the tops of the hills around them, and the warriors, who were carrying Eliezer in an improvised gurney after bandaging and setting his leg, noticed with increasing concern that they were exposed in plain sight to anyone in the vicinity. Eliezer maintained his lucidity, and after half an hour of strained walking at the maximum possible speed, assessed that the entire squad was in danger.
Leave me here in this cave near the bottom of the hill we just passed, he told his people. I’ll make sure to camouflage myself so that no one spots me. The squad members did not agree. We won’t leave you here alone, they replied passionately. If necessary, we’ll fight with whatever we’ve got and bring you home. Deep in their hearts, they knew they had no chance of making it out alive, and that by nobly volunteering to stay behind, Eliezer was bestowing the gift of life upon them. With a heavy heart, they lowered Eliezer into the cave, leaving all their water-filled canteens with him. We’ll come back at night with a larger force and rescue you, they promised, not knowing that many more nights would pass before they could fulfill their promise.
The day in the cave passed slowly and Eliezer felt his fever rising. Occasionally, he sensed himself descending into hallucinations and a twilight state: he was at his parents’ home in the moshav, sitting on a balcony in which a glorious grapevine formed a roof, providing it with shade. A light breeze blew, and the bowl in front of him was full of bunches of greenish, golden fleshy grapes. He was plucking grape after grape, bringing them to his mouth, their juice filling his mouth and sliding down his throat. The dream evaporated abruptly; from afar, he could hear soldiers from the Jordanian Army scanning the area after clearing away the bodies of their casualties from the skirmish. The voices grew gradually louder as the patrolling force drew closer to the cave, and Eliezer held his breath: would they spot him?
He heard a loud argument over whether to continue the search or suspend it, until the commander decreed, in an authoritative voice: We’re going back to the police station. Eliezer heaved a sigh of relief. The opening of the cave was blocked by bushes, but based on the light, he could still see that the day was waning. Now that the threat of the Jordanian patrol had been removed, Eliezer could relax somewhat and quench his thirst by sipping water that was still cool, forcing himself to bite into the pack of sweet, concentrated rations with which commando fighters were always equipped. Everything was quiet, and Eliezer prepared to spend the night waiting for his friends to come rescue him. Suddenly, he heard voices approaching the opening of the cave and tensed up. Was it a rescue force? Based on the exchange he heard, the men were shepherds who were familiar with the cave and had come to check whether it would serve as appropriate shelter for their herd. Eliezer retreated into a concavity in the wall of the cave in an attempt to conceal himself from the eyes of the shepherds who were about to enter it. Quietly and carefully, he cocked his Uzi, the click of metal almost inaudible. With his primed weapon in his hand, he waited with concern for people to enter. A long silence stretched out, with no motion apparent at the opening of the cave. After a few moments that seemed to last forever, he heard voices whispering: There’s someone with a weapon here; why don’t we call the shabab12?
A moment later, the area grew utterly still; there was no longer anyone near the cave. Eliezer knew the story was not over, but his painful injury and the ongoing tension swept him once more into a restless sleep, with his hand resting constantly on the primed submachine gun. Night had fallen, and Eliezer began to suf
fer from the cold, even within the cave, which protected him from the wind. Suddenly, he saw a light flickering at the opening of the cave and heard whispers. There was nothing Eliezer could do but hug his Uzi close, grind his teeth and wait. Instantly, although he was hardly being able to discern any movement within the cave, three men were hovering above him, the stocks of three rifles aimed at him. Who are you? And what are you doing here? they asked him. I’m a wounded soldier, Eliezer replied. I won’t harm you in any way.
Soon, his Uzi was taken from him, and after a short discussion, the three men constructed an improvised gurney and began to carry him through the fields, in the direction of the city of Jenin, with the third man, who sounded authoritative and was probably the most senior in rank among them, holding a gun and aiming it constantly at Eliezer. The conversation between his captors made it clear to Eliezer that these were members of the internal militia of the refugee camp built a short while ago at the outskirts of Jenin. Eliezer realized that his captors were Palestinians, and wasn’t certain if this was more intimidating than being captured by soldiers from the Jordanian Army. After an hour of walking, the group reached the Jenin refugee camp. Eliezer let out a sigh of relief once the painful jostling came to an end and his could lie in peace on the hard bed in the small room to which he was carried.
There was no window, only a simple wooden table and two chairs in the improvised detention room set up by his captors. An oil lantern emitted a faint light, as well as the scent of the wick as it burned. Only a handful of houses in the refugee camp were equipped with generators providing electricity, while most of the houses made do with oil lanterns and wood stoves for cooking. One of the gurney bearers, Ahmed Abu al-Eish, stayed with Eliezer, not taking his eyes off him even for a moment. Morning came, and by the light of day seeping in through the cracks in the door, Eliezer could see the meager room that had become his prison cell. I’m asking you to call a doctor, Eliezer repeated again and again, his voice weak. Don’t worry, Ahmed said quietly. There’s a good doctor here and he’ll come today. Once again, Eliezer sank into a restless sleep, flooded by dreams of green fields, vineyards laden with bunches of grapes, and houses with red shingle roofs in a peaceful rural landscape. Occasionally, when he woke up, Eliezer thought of his friends and wondered whether they had set out to return to the cave in order to bring him back to Israel. Had they reached the cave, and what had they thought when they discovered it was empty?
A team of commando fighters, headed by Gideon, Eliezer’s platoon commander, had indeed reached the cave shortly before midnight, but this was two hours after Eliezer had been taken away, carried on a gurney of guns. There were signs of Eliezer’s presence in the cave: empty water canteens and a wrapping from the sweet iron ration had been left behind in the nook in the wall of the cave. By the illumination of the flashlight with which they scanned the cave, unfamiliar footsteps were visible around the pit in which the wounded man had lain. There was no doubt that Eliezer had been taken prisoner by people whose identity remained unclear. After searching the surrounding area and checking two more adjacent caves, hoping that Eliezer had changed his location despite his injuries and was still free, Gideon and the commando fighters retraced their steps and returned to Israel.
The unit received Gideon’s report of the sortie with concern. The secret report was passed on to the General Staff’s Military Intelligence Directorate that same morning, and soon shared with all intelligence agencies. It was important to collect information about Eliezer as soon as possible: Was he still alive? What condition was he in? Who was holding him, and where?
***
The door to the little room in which Eliezer was lying opened with a creak of its hinges, and Ahmed came in with a hammered bronze tray upon which lay two pieces of pita bread that had just come out of the taboon, a hunk of goat cheese, a handful of bitter olives and a china cup full of sweet, hot, strong tea. A simple, filling breakfast.
Eliezer heard from Ahmed that the rais (leader) had instructed them to take care of him without hurting him, and that the doctor was already on his way to him. Despite his meager appetite, Eliezer made himself eat. The sweet, hot tea filled his mouth, descending into his stomach sip by sip, and he felt the energy returning to his body. The doctor soon arrived, took off the bandages and examined the thigh that had been injured in the skirmish. I’ll now inject you with a painkiller, Dr. Nabil al-Husseini said, and you have to take antibiotic pills three times a day. A new, clean bandage replaced the blood-soaked standard-issue army bandages that Eliezer’s friends had used. The doctor set his leg with a simple brace, a thin wooden board, in order to enable the injury to heal quickly.
With no windows in the room, outside air could only enter through the door. Eliezer was still being closely guarded—Ahmed and another man who sometimes relieved him did not leave his side even for a moment. Eliezer listened closely to the voices audible through the locked door, assessing the size of the house and the number of people living in it. He believed it was a large house, with at least two floors, and stairs taken by adults and children. The clatter of dishes and pots in the kitchen could be clearly heard throughout the day. Eliezer spent the night in a deep sleep after his fever broke and the pain became less acute. The morning sounds were already familiar to him, and this time, in addition to the rattle of dishes, he could also smell meals being cooked and fried, spices, and fresh raw vegetables. Breakfast was varied and tasty, and Eliezer avidly wolfed down the fresh pita bread, the finely chopped tomatoes and native-variety baladi cucumbers, the bitter olives and the hunk of salty goat cheese. Sated and calmer, Eliezer resumed napping once more until the creak of the door’s hinges as it opened woke him with a jolt.
A man of sixty or so, with a dignified appearance and dark, piercing eyes, entered the room. Ahmed treated the guest with much reverence, swiftly offering him a chair to sit in next to the wounded man’s bed. The man opened his mouth.
“I am Salah Shakaki Abu Nimer. What were you searching for in our city? Why did you hurt the Jordanian Army soldiers? You can probably imagine how much the Jordanian Army would like to get its hands on whoever killed its soldiers and interrogate them.”
“It was a training patrol that wasn’t intended to hurt anyone,” Eliezer replied in a weak voice. “But when the Jordanian force opened fire on us, we had to defend ourselves.”
“That might be what actually happened,” Salah Shakaki said, “but that won’t convince the Jordanian Army. Only a handful of people at the refugee camp know you’re here, and at this stage, I have no intention of handing you over to the Jordanian Army. I have unfinished business with Israel, which exiled me from my country, but I’m not going to seek revenge at the expense of a wounded Israeli soldier. You’re in my home, and no harm will come to you.”
Eliezer remained uneasy after the local leader had left the room. He wondered what he had meant by “at this stage.” And what did the members of the Palestinian militant organization intend to do with him? Thoughts of escape occupied him during the day and mainly during the night. Based on the sounds coming from the house and its surroundings, which were his only means of finding out about his location and what was nearby, the area was not densely populated. Based on the daylight infiltrating through the gap between the door and the threshold, he determined that the room was located in the northeastern corner of the house.
Israeli intelligence agencies were working around the clock in an attempt to find out what had become of Eliezer. Sources close to the Jordanian Army claimed that no information about a wounded Israeli soldier taken prisoner had been noted in the army. Attempts to extract information from contact people close to the community of Palestinian refugees proved futile. Hospital and clinic services in Jenin and its surroundings also did not report any wounded soldiers brought in for treatment. The days that passed with no results raised concerns in the head of the Military Intelligence Directorate, who instructed that efforts be increased, and that no wis
p of information be ignored. A generous financial reward was promised to anyone providing well-founded information regarding the paratrooper’s condition and the location where he was being held. Then, just as it seemed they had run out of hope for discovering anything about Eliezer’s fate, one of the Israeli contact people received information that evoked a thrill of joy mingled with worry: a wounded Israeli soldier was being held by the Palestinian organization in the refugee camp in Jenin, in the home of local leader Salah Shakaki, known as Abu Nimer.
The information stated with certainty that the soldier’s health was good, while being somewhat vague about the exact location where he was being held. The commander of the Paratrooper Brigade, Yehuda Gurion, heaved a sigh of relief when he heard the news, but remained concerned about the fate of his warrior. It was obvious that the wounded soldier must be rescued, without wasting any time. However, experience had taught him that hasty action without detailed information or exact planning might lead to a disaster. The commando took on the responsibility of planning every detail of the rescue mission. Preparations included sorties into the refugee camps, with the fighters dressing up in clothes similar to those worn by the camp’s residents, “going native” in local military terms. Soon, the commando had obtained information about the home of the local leader of Jenin’s refugee camp, and the adjacent houses. It appeared that around midnight, the area surrounding the houses was quiet and empty of people.
Rescuing Eliezer was important to everyone, and once the political decision was made, preparations began. The information that Eliezer, a commando fighter, was being held in the home of Abu Nimer, the chosen leader of the Jenin refugee camp, did not put anyone’s mind at ease. The rescue plan included several fully developed alternatives, including drills conducted by the commandos within a model residence. The plans were submitted for the approval of the chief of General Staff and the minister of defense.