Shadow Soldier: A Military Thriller

by Roni Eliav

  We arrived at Army Headquarters with the arrogance and pomp that reflected our prestige. I presented myself to the head of security, who immediately sent me to see the base commander. The event was held outdoors in a finely-decorated garden. The base commander walked around as proud as a groom on his wedding day. I was surprised to discover that I recognized him: he was a close friend of the family. I’d had no idea he was a base commander… As soon as he noticed me, he instructed me to stay by his side the whole evening. I asked that my soldiers be taken care of, and he had them posted by the buffet. I went over and warned them to behave themselves.

  We all remembered far too well the last time we stayed at a different base and I asked them to behave themselves. It had been the Tel-Nof air force base, where the army parachuting course was held. We were there to exercise loading and unloading a jeep from a helicopter. In the break between day practice and night practice, I sent them to grab lunch at one of the base’s mess halls. I myself went to look for a friend I knew was stationed there. I was just about to meet up with her when I suddenly heard a commotion. I rushed over to the scene and saw that my worst fears had been realized: the soldiers had decided to eat at the most sacred of places in the base—the parachuting instructors’ mess hall. In line for the food, egos on both sides had flared up. My men were clutching the helmets they were using in practice, so it wasn’t exactly a fair fight… Long story short, by the time I reached the place, one soldier was under arrest and the rest were expelled from the base. It took me 48 hours to get Eitan out of detainment, and even that was only due to the fact that we were going out on a covert operation that couldn’t be postponed. As for the parachuting instructor, well, I think it took him more than 48 hours to be discharged from the hospital with a fractured skull…

  The party was gathering pace. The security forces and the government’s corps d’elite were all there in their finest clothes: high-ranking officers and their wives, senior members of the Ministry of Defense, high-profile civilian contractors, etc. At first, I obeyed the base commander’s order and followed him around; he enjoyed parading me to his colleagues, but none of them had anything to say to me. Pretty soon, I realized he was growing a bit uncomfortable having me around him: I was at least a foot taller than he was, lean and muscular, and much younger than him. When someone pulled him aside to whisper something in his ear, I seized the chance and got out of there. I found a bar table far from the action, lit a cigarette, and sat down to observe the guests.

  “Do you have a spare one for me?” she asked.

  I turned around. She was incredible, sexy in every sense of the word. She was tall with curled hair and sensual lips, full luscious breasts, a tight waist and long legs, all squeezed into a tight, deeply-cut, split-side black dress. She was older than me by at least ten years, and way out of my league.

  “Cat got your tongue?” she asked teasingly. “Actually, it’s quite endearing that you’re embarrassed. What’s the matter, honey, you’ve never been hit on?”

  “Well, not by someone like you,” I said, and even managed to smile.

  “So what about that cigarette, then?” she asked. There was a smile in her eyes, and she suddenly looked much younger.

  I rifled through my pants pocket, pulled out a pack of cigarettes and offered her one. I lit it using a combat Zippo lighter that I never took out into the field. She examined the lighter with interest. It was adorned with some sort of complex military insignia.

  “What is it? Something secret?”

  “Very.”

  “Oh, well, in that case you’d better hold on to it,” she said, and playfully smiled again.

  My eyes kept drifting to her cleavage, which was captivating.

  “My eyes are up here, you know,” she giggled and pointed at her eyes.

  “I’m sorry, they’re amazing… I-I mean, you’re amazing.”

  “You haven’t seen the half of it,” she said and leaned into me. Her bouncy breasts pressed against my shoulders, and I could feel my heart racing.

  “Don’t tell me you’re a virgin.”

  “Not quite…” I managed to mutter.

  “Too bad, I like virgins. They’re very… eager.”

  “Not too eager?”

  “There’s no such thing, honey,” she winked at me.

  Two of my soldiers came over to ask me if I needed something. They never called me sir, and usually never addressed me without reason. It was clear they just wanted to get a closer look at her, and perhaps help me by making me look important. I brushed them off with a flick of my wrist.

  She grazed the barrel of the rifle slung over my shoulder with her fingernail.

  “You’re a dangerous man.”

  “You have no idea how dangerous.”

  “And you’re brave.”

  “The bravest.”

  “Good. You’ll need to be, soon,” she said, as a tall man in a suit approached us. He was handsome and older than she was, a self-confident man who exuded success.

  “Look who I ran into,” she said and squeezed my bicep firmly. “You remember Wexler’s boy, right?”

  He had a confused look in his eyes for a moment, but quickly gathered his wits: “Sure, of course I do,” he said and shook my hand firmly. “How are you? How are your parents?”

  “They’re fine,” I said, wondering what the hell was going on. I’ve been called many names before, but Wexler was never one of them. I was astounded by her audacity.

  “Are you coming?” he turned to her. “It was nice to see you,” he said, turning back to face me, “send my regards to your parents.”

  She stroked and pinched my bottom as she walked away.

  I was left standing there, completely stunned. What just happened? This was an operational opportunity, and I did not strive to make combat contact.

  I wandered around aimlessly. I approached my soldiers; they teased me about the encounter, which they had observed with attention. They were busy eating, and I warned them not to drink any alcohol. I left them there and kept on wandering.

  Suddenly I saw her strutting her way to the restroom. I followed her and waited for her at the exit. The restroom door swung open, she grabbed me by the arm and pulled me in. Before I could understand what was going on, she squeezed into me and kissed me strongly, hungrily, arms tight around me. Her tongue explored my mouth as she grabbed my hand and placed it on her breasts. I became impassioned. I forcefully kneaded her breasts with one hand, feeling her perky nipple through the thin fabric of her dress, squeezing her buttocks with my other hand, feeling her feminine curves. I pulled her in close, her body wriggling against me… Without warning, she suddenly pulled away from me. She looked me in the eyes, panting. She opened the door and pushed me out.

  I stood there smiling like an idiot. She came out a couple of minutes later, stuffed a note into my palm, and teasingly strutted away. Scribbled in red lipstick, the note read: Liat, tomorrow, 34 Ben-Yehuda St., 4th floor, 4 o’clock.

  The next day, I asked one of the other squad-commanders to come in and replace me. I took a jeep and hightailed it to Tel-Aviv. At a quarter to four, I rushed up the flight of stairs to the fourth floor of an old apartment building on Ben-Yehuda street. As I stood there trying to decide which of the three doors in front of me to knock on, one of them opened. There she was, her nipples protruding from the skimpy sheer dress she wore. I came in and closed the door behind me. It was a studio apartment and we were the only ones there. She smiled mischievously.

  “Take off your shirt,” she whispered. I did, and threw it aside. She reached out and stroked my chest.

  “You’re strong,” she said. “Will I have to wait much longer for you to pounce on me?”

  I clutched her dress in my hands and tore it forcefully, her beautiful breasts bursting out. I grabbed both of them, delighting in their luscious firmness. I bent down to kiss her erect nipples,
mouthing one and then the other. I tore her dress further until it slumped down to her ankles, revealing her body in its entirety. With nothing on but a tiny black thong, she jumped on me, her legs coiling around my waist. We bumbled our way over to the bed; I ripped her underwear off, and she purred like a kitten. An hour later, we lay exhausted in her bed.

  “You smell nice,” she said as she stroked my arm.

  “So do you.”

  “And you taste nice,” she said, and bit me— stirring a second round of tumultuous love-making.

  That afternoon, I found out that she was married, that she had two girls— Neta and Michal— and that she loved her husband. I also learned that the apartment belonged to her friend, and that she never wanted to see me again because I was nothing but a fling.

  The next day, she called the unit. Any call to the unit first reached an operator who transferred the call if they knew where you were; otherwise, they’d announce your name over the PA system. That way, everyone always knew who was calling whom and how frequently.

  She said she missed me, and that she hadn’t meant it yesterday when she told me she didn’t want to see me again. I told her I was busy, that I was going out, and that I wouldn’t be available. She insisted and asked me when I would be available, and I replied: “Sometime in the future…”

  I held out for a week. We met again for a particularly wild evening. It then became a habit: once every couple of days we’d meet— in a hotel room, in a friend’s apartment, at the beach, etc. When I wasn’t with her, I swore to myself I’d never see her again. But then she would call, and I would make up an excuse to leave the base to go see her. When I was out in the field, I felt torn between two opposing forces: an irresistible attraction versus the rational understanding that this relationship wasn’t good for either of us.

  Meanwhile, our rendezvous became more and more feverish. We made love at the beach, in public parks, in an army jeep, in the car under her house, by the entrance gate just outside of the base… We pursued our passion with reckless abandon.

  One time, I was conducting an urban navigation exercise for my team. They learned the axes of advance, and in the evening, we took an army truck out to a parking lot in southern Tel-Aviv. They hopped off in civilian clothes and with concealed weapons, and started the exercise. I told the driver he could go off and do as he pleased, while I hung around waiting. A short while after, just as we scheduled, a silver Audi pulled up to the truck. She stepped out, catlike and sexy, and climbed into the cabin. The smell of the army truck turned her on: she pounced on me, pinned me down, and tormented the hell out of me. We were so engrossed in ourselves we didn’t notice the time. When I finally snapped back to reality, I noticed some soldiers had completed the exercise and were huddled not far from the truck. I was nervous. Liat smiled, straightened her dress, opened the door and stepped out of the truck, strutting her way towards her silver Audi. The soldiers gaped at her, dumbstruck. She blew me a kiss, got in the car, and drove away. I dug my heels in and refused to answer any of their questions…

  The next time I saw her, silence was no longer an option. I was having a couple of beers with my soldiers in the Tavern pub behind the Exhibition Grounds in Tel-Aviv. Suddenly I could smell her perfume. She placed her hand on my shoulder and squeezed in between me and the soldier sitting next to me. She was there with a friend. She chatted briskly and lightly with the soldiers, spreading obvious hints about the nature of our relationship. Later, she pulled me into the bushes, making sure that everyone could see where we went.

  Our relationship became the most well-known secret in the unit. The soldiers did what they could to cover for me, even when I pushed the boundaries of acceptable behavior. What did they think of their commander? I didn’t know, and didn’t ask. They occasionally asked me about her, clearly taking pleasure in embarrassing me.

  The whole time, I kept reminding her that she had a lot to lose; that she had a family she loved, that her life was good, and that she didn’t need me. She always agreed with me, but would then call me and we’d meet up again.

  Until she finally stopped calling. A week passed, followed by another, and then another… A month later, I called her myself. Her husband answered. He let me speak with her, and must have been standing next to her. She told me she didn’t want to see me again, that she’d told her husband everything, and that she’d promised him it was over. I didn’t know what to say. I said goodbye, and hung up the phone.

  A couple of days later, she called. She said she hadn’t meant any of what she said, that it was all an act for her husband. I replied that I understood, but that it really was wrong. We agreed we wouldn’t see each other anymore. That resolution lasted about a month, and then we met again and absolutely ravaged each other. And just like that, it was back to square one.

  One day, I was called in for a conversation with Tamir, the unit commander. It was pretty unusual, but I wasn’t too bothered. He was a good commander, appreciated and respected by everyone in the unit.

  To my surprise, he started talking about his family, about his kids and his special bond with them, and about the importance of the family cell in his life, which gave him the strength to perform his professional duties well. I sat there awkwardly, not sure what was going on. He then said that the family cell was important for everyone, and that one thing a man with honor never did was ruin a family.

  I stared at him, flabbergasted. “You’re having an affair with the wife of a close friend of mine,” he said. “I’m sure you like her, but think of the damage you’re causing. I’m not asking you to do anything, and I’m not ordering you either. Make your own call.”

  I was left stunned. I never called her again, and I turned away all her calls. Slowly, they became less and less frequent, and finally stopped altogether. It would be many years before I heard of her again.

  Chapter 9

  TEAM ASSIGNMENTS: GRIT AND ARROGANCE

  The hardest tests are the ones you put your own self through.

  Back in my day, there was no training course for squad commanders. What you yourself underwent as a cadet during the qualification course served as your training. You were offered tools and assistance when you sought them, but at the end of the day it was down to you to conceive, plan, and execute your own ideas. Near the end of the qualification course, there is a time slot reserved for “team assignments.” Team assignments comprise a weeklong “rolling” exercise, during which the cadets execute nightly assignments drawn from the arsenal of operational scenarios they have mastered. The daytime in between is spent hiding in team-camouflage (requiring a great deal more skill and equipment than individual camouflage), meaning you carry a mass of gear, equipment, and provisions along with you. I didn’t know it then, but the events that would unfold during team assignment week would play a decisive role in forging my team’s identity. By the time the exercise was finished, it would become known to everyone that we were a wild, daring, and resolute group, with exceptional operational capabilities.

  The only problem was that I hadn’t taken part in team assignment week during my own training; it had been conducted after we completed our qualification course, and I was already in officer training by then. Usually, you’d look to what your own squad commander did when drawing your own plans. I first turned to my company commander, but he was new and hadn’t done it himself either. I had no choice but to turn to my old squad commander, the legendary Nachum Lev. I was reluctant to call on Nachum— you don’t want to ask your squad commander for help, you want to prove to him you’re good enough on your own. But Nachum, as ever, was practical and incisive.

  “Start with silent infiltration into some kind of security complex, then a live fire raid on some target, and finish up with storming a military base. In between, make sure you practice camouflaging in different terrains, and add some retreat exercises with loaded stretchers.” He had the same sparkle in his eye when instructing me now as he h
ad when I was his cadet. “And make sure to throw in vehicle abduction at some point, to help you cover some ground…” he concluded with a typical wink.

  I went to speak to the operations officer, to see what options I had. I concocted an exercise. I took a jeep and rode around alone for three days to scour the target areas. I then presented my plan to the unit commander. He was not impressed, and told me to come up with a better plan. I consulted David, an operations officer who was part of my old team before suffering an injury that forced him to take up a non-combatant role in the unit. Together, we were able to whip up a plan that won the approval of the unit commander, despite his displeasure at its loose ends. I was just happy to finally get his approval. I figured I’d just play the rest by ear as the exercise unfolded.

  I checked the forecast on Friday and was dismayed to learn we were in for rain— an infantry soldier’s worst enemy. Once again, those pesky showers that soak you to the bone, weigh you down with extra water weight, make you utterly miserable, and bring you to the verge of freezing. I couldn’t add any extra gear to protect us from the cold, our backpacks were already filled to the brim; and besides, that wasn’t how we did it in the unit. We were expected to train with minimal gear. Nevertheless, I decided to allow every soldier to carry a thin nylon poncho.

  After a full day of briefing and preparations, we held a gear-inspection roll call on Saturday evening. Every soldier lay their gear out on their beds, and I inspected them one by one.

  “You don’t need that.”

  “But…”

  “No buts, there’s no room for it. You need more ammo for the MAG.”