13:35 / 1:35 P.M. EET
Nir kept his gun leveled at the Kurdish commander. Out of his peripheral vision, he saw Doran and Dima raise their weapons to site level.
Nir answered him in Arabic. “That’s not going to happen, sadiq. It would be a shame for us to have to kill you after we just saved your life.”
“There are more of us than of you. You would be dead before you could take us all down.”
“‘Ana asif,” Nir said, his tone apologetic. “You misunderstood. When I said we would have to kill you, the you was singular, not plural.”
The Kurd stared at Nir, then broke into laughter. “You are funny, sadiq. And you are right. You did come to our aid. We are thankful.” He turned to his men. “Put your weapons down. We are among friends.”
Once all of their weapons were lowered, Nir and his men followed suit.
“I am Major Mustafa Nurettin of the People’s Protection Unit. This is my second in command, Lieutenant Murat Erdal. We were on patrol when we stumbled across this Hay’at Tahrir al-Sham trash. They had us pinned down, and it looked like we were done for. Then suddenly, Allah sent us angels from the desert. Imagine now my surprise when I learn that our angels are Israelis.”
“And after I worked so hard on my Jordanian Arabic accent,” Nir said.
Again, Major Nurettin laughed. “You really are funny. Now, may I ask what three Israeli soldiers are doing in the middle of northern Syria?”
“You may ask, but I’m afraid I cannot give you an answer.”
“Interesting.” Nurettin tapped his chin. “You are dressed as if you are IDF, but your words are cryptic like you are Mossad.”
Nir gave nothing away with his face.
Nurettin smiled. “You also keep silent as if you are Mossad. But be that as it may, we are in your debt. Our camp is near here. May I invite you for some warmth and a hot meal?”
Nir looked at his men, who both shrugged their shoulders. It certainly could be a trap. But if they’d wanted to kill or capture Nir and his men, they could have attempted it while they were still approaching. Turning back, he said, “Thank you for your hospitality. We will take you up on it.” It’s a risk but one hopefully worth taking.
Nir followed the major and the lieutenant down the road to where they’d pulled a desert-camouflaged Humvee behind a low rise. The four other Kurdish soldiers stayed behind, no doubt to riffle through the bodies, collect all the weapons, and confiscate the three remaining functional pickups. Nurettin invited Nir to sit in the front passenger seat while he drove.
As they traveled down the bumpy road, the major regaled Nir with stories of his battles against the militias of the Islamic State and with his reasons why the Turks, the Iranians, the Iraqis, and the Patriotic Union of Kurdistan could never be trusted. The Americans could be trusted until they changed their minds and the Russians only when goats sprouted wings.
When they arrived at the small, tented camp, Nir was impressed with the quality of the vehicles, the weapons, and the camp equipment—all, he was sure, courtesy of the U.S. government. Two lambs were roasting over a fire pit, causing his stomach to remind him that he hadn’t eaten anything of substance for almost a full day.
Major Nurettin escorted them into a large tent with cushions spread around. In the middle was a coal stove putting out quite a bit of heat. He invited the Israelis to make themselves comfortable. He excused himself momentarily, returning in seconds.
“I have to report our incident, but I have instructed my men to refer to you as nomads if anyone should ask. If I were to talk about finding three Israelis wandering in the wilderness, the next thing you know people would start expecting to find manna every morning.”
Nir laughed, more because he liked this guy than due to the quality of the humor.
Nurettin continued. “Besides, massive paperwork always accompanies the word Israel. An incident like this would have me writing reports for the next six months.”
“I appreciate your discretion,” Nir said.
“May I ask you one question? Where are you going from here? Do you need to be taken someplace?”
“Thank you, but no. We have a ride coming tonight.”
The major looked like he wanted to ask more, but he held back. “I’ll return soon. In the meantime, please enjoy a meal.”
“Your hospitality is unmatched,” Nir said.
“Of course. I am Kurdish.”
After the major left and the men had relaxed on the cushions, Nir put in a call to logistics headquarters.
“How are you?” Nicole asked upon answering.
“We’re fine. Interesting day. I’ll tell you about it when we’re home. I need you to scout a new LZ for us. We are at 36°35'35"N by 39°42'24"E. I’ll let our hosts know that the Yanshuf is coming in.”
“Your hosts? Where are you?” she asked as the tent flaps opened and dishes of food were carried in.
“I don’t know for sure. But it sure smells delicious here. Any leads there?”
“We’re making progress, but it’s nothing that can’t wait until you’re back. Keep yourself safe. We’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Root. Out.”
The star of the show, the lamb, was prominently displayed and roasted to a juicy perfection. In the surrounding dishes were salads, pilaf, dolmas, and flat bread. Partway through the meal, Major Nurettin came in accompanied by Lieutenant Erdal. The lieutenant carried a tureen filled with a white concoction he called dew. It was a yogurt-based drink with salt and a hint of mint. Nir was dubious of it until he tried it. His first glass was followed by two more.
When the major inquired about their departure, Nir let him know about the UH-60 that would arrive a few hours after dark.
Nurettin said, “You are my guests until then. Feel free to rest or walk around. I would only ask that you refrain from entering our command tent.”
“Of course. And I hope to repay your hospitality one day.”
“Nonsense,” scoffed the major. “It is I who am indebted to you. I will give you a way to contact me. Please do not hesitate to call should you ever need my help.”
Nir thanked him, and the major and the lieutenant left the tent.
Dima ate an amazing amount of food only to outdo himself when the baklava and date cookies arrived later in the evening. Doron ate little, never fully trusting the situation they found themselves in. Nir was just glad to be out of the cold and near the coal stove.
Night fell around 18:30, and it was nearing two hours before midnight by the time they heard the rotors of the Yanshuf. With a parting salute, Nir and his men said goodbye to their hosts and climbed on board the helicopter, which had set down just outside the perimeter of the camp. It took two and a half hours to get them to the INS Hanit for refueling, then another three hours to get home.
By the time Nir climbed into his bed in Tel Aviv, the sun was just coming up.