Leah Rabin kept most of the hostages on the floor of the Operations ready room, while allowing as many as possible to get food and water from the army medics and to make bathroom visits. She moved among the people, encouraging them, telling them they would be leaving soon. She helped organize splinter barricades, made of metal furniture, covered where possible with heavy overcoats. She told each family group to remain together, and had individuals buddy into teams, each member charged with knowing the whereabouts of all his team companions. She lectured, she cajoled, but mostly she just talked, very calmly, smiling often, touching often.

There was a mother with two daughters, one fifteen and the other thirteen. Their father was a chief radar technician on board the destroyer Adams. The thirteen-year-old, whose name was Angela, seemed fascinated by Leah and followed her constantly as she continued to organize.

Leah finished moving family groups to positions closer to the foundations of the building, which were made of cinder block and concrete and might afford some protection from small-arms fire. Leah stood back and looked at the tight groups of people, all of whom looked back at her. They seemed cheerful and confident. God, I hope we can get on those helicopters soon, thought Leah as she sat down on the metal desk near the bound form of Abu Salaam.

Little Angela approached the desk, on the side away from the terrorist. Leah smiled and stroked the child’s curly blond hair. “Are you and your mother and sister ready to leave in the helicopter, Angela?”

“Yes, Leah. Will you go with us?”

“The officers will tell who goes in which helicopter, Angela.”

“What if the Marines and the Army can’t get us out?”

“They will get us out, Angela. The helicopters have already landed. Very soon you must join your mother and sister. I am counting on you to make sure they get to the helicopter safely.”

“I will. But what if the Libyans come first? I heard a soldier say the Libyans have tanks.”

“We will fight. We will defeat them, Angela, and then we will leave.”

“We have to fight, too? Not just the men?”

Leah looked at the pretty child, her earnest expression and her innocent blue eyes. How unlike Israeli children, schooled on the never-ending need to defend themselves and their land. “Yes, Angela, if we have to. Women must fight: it is our freedom, our duty, just like the men.”

“Will you be here to show us how, Leah?” The child’s eyes shone with fear, and with courage overcoming it.

“Yes, Angela. Now, please join your family. We will surely be leaving in a few minutes.”