Authors: Niv Kaplan
He felt his body begin to loosen. He was soaked from head to toe with sweat that was rapidly frosting his camouflaged khaki uniform. His waist and shoulders were sore from the straps that held the heavy combat gear fastened to his body, and his leg muscles were beginning to cramp. During
the debrief, the weapons and backpacks taken from the terrorists were given to Lieutenant Nadav, the intelligence officer. The major and Lieutenant Gilad gave their versions of what happened. Questions were asked by the Northern Command chief, a brigadier general. It was mentioned that Eitan spotted the terrorists and he learned that in the village, three houses were blown up, but no accomplices were found and no prisoners were taken. In all, the successful ambush made the operation a worthwhile affair. The major informed the troops that they had indeed earned their three-day leave, but not before going back to the base to clean their weapons and gear and get reorganized.
Two hours later, a signal was given and they headed for the trucks. Eitan had drunk three cups of coffee and eaten four
sandwiches by then. He felt tired and content. As he was climbing into the back of the truck, the round plastic film receptacle fell out of his pocket, rolled on the metal floor, and disappeared among the ammunition boxes. Eitan scrambled after it, blindly searching the floor of the truck with his hands, barely managing to retrieve the elusive container. "Forgot all about this," he mumbled to himself as he climbed off the truck and went looking for the intelligence officer.
He found him crouched over a set of maps, under a bare light bulb powered by an obnoxious portable generator, inside the main operations tent of Forward Command. Eitan knew Lieutenant Nadav Carmon well. They were in basic training together. They both passed the trials
and joined special forces, completing the grueling twenty months of training before Nadav went to Officer Training School. He injured his knee at OTS and was no longer fit for combat duty so they made him an intelligence officer.
"This belongs to one of the terrorists," Eitan said. "It was in my pocket. I forgot all about it."
Lieutenant Nadav briefly examined the leather wallet, then took the small round box and opened it. The roll of negatives fell into his hand.
"This is odd," he remarked.
Eitan watched carefully as the lieutenant straightened the negatives and put them up to the light.
Nadav looked at him. "Where did you say you found these?"
"In one of those backpacks," Eitan replied, pointing to the pile on the floor.
“Ah, OK, I'm going to have these developed as soon as I get back to headquarters."
"I thought it was kind of odd for them to be coming from the south," Eitan remarked.
"Why?" asked the lieutenant.
"Because according to what was said in the briefing, we were anticipating them coming from the north."
"So?"
"You think it was an outfit intending to cross the border?" Eitan asked.
"A most logical explanation, I would think. They must have been on their way but doubled back when we hit the village, then ran into you," Nadav concluded, forcing a smile and patting Eitan on his back.
There was envy in his voice, Eitan realized, reflecting on how Nadav must be feeling. After going through special-forces training, they were all eager to put their acquired skills into use. Breaking his knee meant he would never be able to experience combat or bask in the glory of those who performed the raids. He had to settle for providing intelligence reports before the raid and debriefing the troops after. His position was ancillary and he was now an outsider who would never be able to share their experiences.
"Would you let me know what's in the film?"
"That depends."
"Depends on what?" Eitan protested.
"You should know better," Nadav blurted, annoyed. "If the information is classified, I have no authority to tell you and you are not cleared to know!"
"Always the same Intelligence crap," Eitan complained. "You guys never give us common soldiers any credit."
"Not when it comes to holding your mouths in check," the lieutenant acknowledged with evident sarcasm. "Whenever you guys hear something newsworthy, the entire country knows about it the next day."
Eitan changed the subject. He knew Nadav was right. They could not keep a secret. What good was a secret they couldn't expose?
"Are you coming to Motti's house Saturday?" he asked. "Malka will be there."
Nadav looked surprised. "How do you know about…?"
Eitan smiled and turned to leave. "You said it yourself: none of us can keep a secret, and you my friend, are still one of us!"
"Go to hell!" The lieutenant yelled after him, but Eitan was already on his way to the truck and a three-day leave.
As he stepped out of the command tent, he saw the truck pulling away. He raced after it yelling at the top of his voice for them to stop. Luckily the driver heard him and slammed on the brakes. He jumped in, landing between his mates, pushing for room. The guys gave him a mouthful for startling them out of their peace. A few minutes later they were all asleep as the truck headed back to the base.
It was Wednesday, July 8th, 1987.
PART ONE
THE ABDUCTION
CHAPTER 1
There was a knock on the door.
Mikki opened his eyes. The room was pitch dark. Where am I? He thought. What time is it? He sat up in his bed desperately trying to regain a sense of time.
He hated those obscure moments. It took him forever to recover. He would collapse on the bed in his work clothes, following a strenuous day, sleep until early evening, wake up disoriented and upset with himself for missing out on the afternoon activities.
On most days he would meet the guys after work, sit around a brewing coffee pot, smoke and gossip. Their favorite topic was almost exclusively their latest sexual encounters. Being extremely thorough and animated, they would outline their experiences in great detail often exposing their own shortcomings to ridicule. No one was safe from being taunted.
There was another knock. This time he heard a voice.
"Mikki, are you in there? Open the door! It's important."
Through the hazy, misty state of semi-consciousness he recognized the voice. It was his mother. Something was up because his mother never came to his room, unless it was absolutely essential. He got up, a little wobbly, and reached for the door.
Reena stood there with a worried look on her face. She had large brown eyes with short black hair, a small pointy nose, and gorgeous lips. She had been pretty in her days but was beginning to show signs of aging. Her posture was sagging and her face was freckled, not tanned. She did not use makeup. It was rare to find a woman in the kibbutz who did.
"What's going on, Mom?" he asked impatiently.
"Take a look at this," she said handing him a brown paper envelope.
Mikki's stomach tightened. He did not have to open it to know
what it contained. "You didn't think they'd forget me, did you?" he said trying to sound cheerful.
"No," she answered, "it just caught me by surprise."
Mikki opened the envelope and quickly unfolded an official document informing him that on August 5th, 1984, he was to report to the main recruiting base near Tel Aviv to begin his thirty-six months of military service.
"When?" his mother asked.
"In four months."
It was April 16, 1984.
His turn had come. Mikki planned to join the service after high school, but promised himself he would not serve a day over the required
three years. He would not go to officer training which required an additional year, nor would he volunteer to any outfit that required more than a three-year service. He would pay his dues and get the hell out. Military life did not appeal to him. He dreaded authority and feared being trapped within the confines of its hierarchy. It was tough enough getting through high school and dealing with the teachers where the worst that could happen would be to get thrown out of school and spend your days wandering aimlessly around the kibbutz. In the military, if he disobeyed orders, they would throw him in jail.
He was apprehensive of artificial relationships based on seniority and rank. From the stories he had heard over the years from many veterans, he knew that rank meant a person had the right to order one around and make one's life miserable, no matter how incompetent or irresponsible that person might be. This, Mikki knew, was to be his greatest test in functioning in the military. The fear of being out of control and in the hands of incompetent and even dangerous people kept him awake nights as draft day grew near.
He put the official draft notification in the brown envelope.
"Are you coming home?" his mother asked.
He considered it. If he went home, she would fix him a hearty supper with chicken soup, a fresh salad, scrambled eggs with onions and cheese, and cake for dessert. He loved her dinners. She knew exactly what he liked and how he liked it. It was tempting, but the Volunteer House was even more so, now that a fresh new group of volunteers had arrived.
"Sorry Mom," he said, "I'll have to pass this time."
"Where will you eat?" she asked.
"I'll grab something in the dining hall."
"But it's past dinner time!" she protested.
"Don't worry, I'll find something. I'm a big boy now," he said,
waving the brown envelope in front of her face.
He turned to enter his room. Reena caught his arm. "I love you son," she said.
It caught him by surprise. "What's the occasion?" he asked.
"You are a big boy now, and in a few months you'll be leaving for the military. I just wanted to say it. I haven't said it in a long time. It's not easy for your dad and me to accept that we have a son joining the military. Time goes by so fast."
Mikki looked at her. Affection did not come easy in their family. It always seemed awkward to acknowledge feelings. Mikki's father, Abe, was a master at avoiding affection. The world was not supposed to know he could be vulnerable. Reena was different but she could not cope with her husband, having to put up the act when he was around. It was difficult for Mikki to tell her that he loved her very much. Being a product of his parents and the kibbutz, he, like most of his teenage buddies, felt awkward expressing true feelings.
"Me too," he said to her and quickly added, "Hey, I have to run, see you tomorrow."
Reena quickly reached up and kissed him on the cheek. Mikki put his arms around her, hugged her for a brief moment, and quickly stepped back looking around to see if anyone had noticed this brief show of affection. Mikki had a reputation to protect. A stud like him was not supposed to be publicly hugging his mother. If anyone saw them, he would hear about it for weeks.
Reena looked her son over. He was very handsome standing there with nothing but his shorts, six feet tall, with brown curly hair and dark brown penetrating eyes. He had broad shoulders and a young athletic body. He was her first. He was her favorite.
She turned to leave.
Mikki watched as she disappeared behind some buildings,
then entered his room. He threw on the light switch and looked around. It was a zoo. Dirty clothes were scattered everywhere and the stench from filthy socks was almost unbearable. Neither he nor his roommate ever bothered to clean unless a female was to be entertained in the room, in which case the entertainer would clean and the other would make arrangements to find a place to spend the night.
He quickly showered and put on a pair of jeans and a tee shirt. He considered strapping on a pair of leather sandals but rejected the idea and hastily stormed out of the room heading to the dining hall in hopes of finding some leftovers from supper. It was after hours and there was no more food served in the main hall so he went to the kitchen in the back and made himself two cream cheese and tomato
sandwiches which were gone in a flash. He considered preparing a third, but decided against it. Quickly heading out, he surmised that the extra time could keep him just long enough for some other fellow to snatch the love of his life before he was given his chance.
The Volunteer House was an old, two-storey building, once used as a cowshed before a new cowshed was built and the
building was revamped to house people. The volunteers would sleep two or three in a room, with two main bathrooms on each floor. Part of the bottom floor was converted into a meeting room which also served as the local night club. It was an institution in the kibbutz, a place that took in young people who came from around the world to experience this unique way of life. Many were Jewish, but as word got around, they soon came from all nationalities and religions. Some came out of curiosity, others because of sentimental and religious ties, and still others came because they had nowhere else to go and their parents needed a break. Israel and the Kibbutz movement welcomed them with open arms for the excellent public relations and very cheap labor. They were an odd mix of people who would quickly blend in. Freed from the expectations and scrutiny of family and friends, they allowed themselves to break the mold and play out those fantasies they would never have dared play back home.
To Mikki and his friends, these volunteers were a breath of fresh air. Apart from acquaintances from nearby settlements and occasional guests, the volunteers were the only source of fresh faces they ever saw and when a new group showed up, the guys would check them out and make themselves available, hoping to attract someone they liked for a night or two and occasionally even longer than that. Most relationships never lasted more than a few months.
Mikki had had several frivolous relationships since he was about fifteen. He lost his virginity to a French girl, one dark August night. The sex was great and his English kept improving, but it wasn't enough. Being so removed from their native environment, he had surmised they were too far out of their element to develop meaningful relationships. He had always believed that if he was to develop a meaningful relationship, one that was not exclusively built around sex, it would have to be with an Israeli girl. However, the girls he grew up with were like his sisters and new Israeli girls were next to impossible to meet, so he always ended up in the Volunteer House looking for a quick fix.
Tonight was no different. A new group of volunteers from Canada and the United States had arrived and he was on his way to present himself. They were having an orientation meeting, when Mikki walked in. Two of his friends, Shlomo and Ronni, were sitting
on the floor, in the back, waiting for the meeting to end. Mikki was about to join them when he noticed her.
She was sitting
in the front row, noticeable among the attentive bunch of new faces. He could see her profile, curly blond hair and perfectly straight nose. Dumbstruck, he froze, glaring at her, oblivious to the awkward situation. He was sure she noticed him but she seemed to be paying attention to the lecture. Shlomo and Ronni were motioning for him to join them and not disturb the lecture.
He stood there for a brief moment which seemed like an hour, staring at her. Her eyes moved a fraction to the side and fell on his gaze. He noticed a small scar under her left eye and thought she was faintly smiling at him. He lowered his gaze. Embarrassed, he quickly took his place on the floor in the back with Shlomo and Ronni.
"Did you see her?"
"Who, the blonde?"
Shlomo asked.
"No, your grandmother," Mikki said irritably. "Who do you think I was referring to?"
"Do you know what your biggest problem is, Mikki?" Shlomo began nastily.
"No, but I'm sure you're about to let me know."
"Your biggest problem," Shlomo went on, ignoring the comment, "is that you think you are the only one on this planet who can spot a beautiful babe and…" Shlomo half turned to Ronni with a smirk on his face, "… then you think they only want you and you act as if you're holding some kind of title over them."
"How many girls have you had in the last year Shlomo?" Mikki mocked, grinning in the direction of Ronni who, knowing full well what was coming, was desperately trying to keep from bursting out laughing. "With the exception of that fat ass from Belgium who you thought you were going to marry, you basically sleep alone and jerk off every night."
"Well Mikki, I've got news for you: that blonde in the front row, is mine!" Shlomo proclaimed with a triumphant smile.
"They've only been here one night and already she is yours?"
"We met them at the bus yesterday when they came in. She asked me to come to the party tonight."
"How, in God's name, did she know there was going to be a party tonight?" Mikki asked, ready to crush the man. "Did they get handed leaflets at the airport?"
Shlomo needed help. He turned to Ronni. "Tell him man, you were there."
Ronni was bent over, laughing, holding on to his stomach, barely
able to breathe. He sat up straight, trying to keep a straight face, and was about to say something when they burst out laughing, almost crying in view of Mikk
i‟
s astonished stare. It took them a few minutes to regain their composure. By then the lecture was over and the room was being turned into a night club.
The volunteers operated the night club. Every week they would raise money to buy beer, soft drinks, and tobacco filled with illegal substances. A record player with a powerful amplifier and two monstrous speakers would blast hard rock to the point where no one could hear themselves speak and conversations were conducted through shouting. The nightly routine was to have a few beers, smoke, dance, and - if you were lucky - to end up with a girl. Most nights ended up with a hangover.
"What's her name?" Mikki pressed Shlomo as they were getting up off the floor.
"How the hell should I know?" Shlomo said, half smiling.
"I thought you talked to her?"
"I did, but I didn't ask her for her name."
"Why not?"
"I don't want her name, I want her body!" he declared and together with Ronni burst out laughing once again.
Mikki shook his head in disgust and moved to the bar. He ordered a bottle of Goldstar beer and sat down on a vacant stool.