I know what you’re going to say,” Nir told Efraim as soon as the door closed behind them. The halls were still a flurry of activity, so he kept his voice somewhat quiet.
Efraim spun around to face him. Early forties with a growing paunch, Nir had recently commented to him that he was the perfect illustration of people and their pets looking alike if Efraim’s dog happened to be named Ariel Sharon. “Tell me what I’m going to say, Nir.”
“You’re going to tell me that I can’t take a rescue team to get Yossi. Then I’m going to tell you that I am going to take a team. Then we’ll go back and forth a little until you give in and arrange a helo for me. So, let’s just skip all that crap for time’s sake and jump to where you start making calls to requisition what I need.”
“Not this time,” Efraim said. He crossed his arms as if to emphasize his resolve.
“I thought we were going to skip this part, but okay…Yes, Efraim, we are going to rescue Yossi, and I need a helo.”
“Nir, for once just shut up and listen.” There was a look in his friend’s eyes that he hadn’t ever seen before. Sorrow mixed with anger and steel-hardened determination. His arms now uncrossed, and a finger bounced against Nir’s chest, emphasizing each pertinent word. “You cannot, I repeat, cannot take a team out. It won’t happen, and I don’t have the time for that back-and-forth stupidity you talked about. Instead, let me simply inform you that if you push me any more about taking a team, I swear I will have you escorted out of this building.”
The two men stared at each other. Finally, Nir broke and asked, “Why? Achi, that’s Yossi out there!”
“First of all, I doubt there is a single helo in all of Israel that is not being requisitioned at this very moment by people much farther up the ‘I need a helo’ chain than you. But it’s more than that. It’s different this time. Everything is different, and I don’t think it will ever be the same.” Efraim’s hands slid into his pockets. “The stories that are coming in—brother, it’s a nightmare. There are thousands of dirties down there and it’s free rein. It reminds me of the stories of Rwanda—or even, God forgive me for saying it, the Holocaust death camps. It’s a massacre. And that’s just from the few reports we’ve gotten in. I think what we’re going to hear and see in the hours ahead will be beyond imagination.”
All the news Nir had heard made it clear the situation was bad. But to hear these words from his friend, a man who was not prone to exaggeration, was almost beyond grasping. “Then why aren’t we stopping it? Where’s the IDF?”
“They’re trying to get going, but they got caught flatfooted. It was like when we watched that NBA game a couple nights ago with that one dude. What was his name?”
“Who? Curry?”
“Yeah, Curry. Remember when he did that one move, and the defender collapsed because Curry got him leaning one way, then he cut back the other. Remember what the commentator called it?”
“An ankle-breaker,” Nir said, picturing the move. The two of them had jumped up in awe at the fake.
“Somehow, Hamas pulled an ankle-breaker on us. Whether it was on purpose or not, they got us leaning to the north, then they poured over the south. We’re just now getting back on our feet and turning our forces around.”
One of the most powerful and most advanced militaries in the world, and we let ourselves get fooled by a bunch of genocidal, half-witted terrorists. There’s no excuse!
Nir leaned forward so his whisper could still be heard amongst the hallway bustle. “Listen, if the IDF is struggling to get their act together, then isn’t this the perfect time for Kidon to do what we do? How many terrorist attacks have we thwarted or turned around?”
Efraim rested his hand on Nir’s shoulder. Using the same level whisper, but with a greater intensity, he said, “That’s what you’re not getting, achi. This is not a terrorist attack. This is an act of war! This is an invasion! I don’t know if Hamas is thinking, Oh, we’ll finish up then melt back across the border like we always do. Then it will be back to business as usual. I’m telling you—there will be no more business as usual. This is war!” Efraim declared emphatically.
“Okay, I get it. It’s war. But if this really is war, then the IDF needs all the guns and intelligence it can muster. They need us!”
Efraim shook his head. “That’s where you’re wrong. War is a military venture, and you are not military. We’re about to see a massive force going in with big vehicles, large weapons, and thousands of soldiers. You are a small team carrying sniper rifles and very sharp blades. They kill their thousands. You kill the one who leads their thousands. Your time is coming, brother. I promise you that.”
“I understand, but what about today? What do we do today, right now?”
Efraim shook his head and leaned his shoulder against the wall. “Today is not your day. It’s not your team’s day. Today is for taking back our towns and securing our borders. Today is for the IDF. Soon will come the time for vengeance. That will be your day.”
Nir knew he was right. But still…
“I made a promise to Yossi, man. We can’t just leave him out there. What do I tell him?”
“Tell him the IDF is coming. Tell him to find shelter. Tell him to pray.”
The two friends stood still in the busy hallway, staring down at the floor. Finally, Efraim tapped Nir twice on the chest with his fist. “I’ll keep you up to date.”
“Yeah,” said Nir, not looking up as Efraim walked away.
How do I tell Yossi we’re not coming? How do I tell my team? The guilt and uncertainty left him rooted to the floor tiles just outside the door to CARL. He might have remained there all morning had not someone barreled into him from behind, almost knocking him over. He twisted in time to catch a young lady from stumbling to the ground. She muttered an apology as he stood her back up and she hurried to catch up with her small group.
I guess that’s my sign. God help me—this is not going to be pretty.
Nir pressed his card to the reader and the lock clicked open. He sighed, then walked in, expecting the worst. But nobody seemed to notice his return. All the analysts were at their stations working. Imri had his chair pulled up behind Liora and Dafna and was watching their screens over their shoulders. Dima was standing with one hand on Lahav’s chair, leaning over as the analyst pointed to his screen and explained something to him. Yaron and Gil were each absorbed in what sounded like news reports on their phones.
All was quiet except for one sound that echoed through the room. As Nir sat in his chair, folded his arms on the table, and put his head down, the steady sound of Yossi’s labored breathing carried through his phone and cut deep into his heart.