1982, September 15th
Bashir Gemayel has been assassinated last afternoon...
The leader of the Lebanese forces, the destroyer of the PLO, Palestinian Liberation Organization, and a great ally of the state of Israel is dead.
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It's 23:00
We're out on a foot patrol, and of course 2nd Lt Frenkel is leading the platoon of 35 men and Sergeant Govi is here bitching about the weather.
Nothing bothers me anymore since the last time I saw action, I am glad to be alive, here today walking with most of the men I called useless a few days back. Pvt Yoav isn't here so his absence does bother us all, but we never talked about him again after that day.
"We'll be home in no time" we heard many men say. They were not wrong, atleast not yet. The president was dead, the new president would definitely support Israel, not because they like us, but they want us to go back. We don't want to be here, us enlisted men. I often think about how things could have gone worse if Shlomo's, Shlomo Argov's assassination was successful.
"Lucky bastard" we often called him; got shot by three assassins, yet lived to put us, the unlucky ones in this shithole.
