HERZLIYA, ISRAEL
June 7, 1967
At the words “The news from Kol Israel,” Tamara and Rachel ran to the radio in the living room, where Peter’s children Noah and Ezra were already gathered. On the hour every hour Israel came to a standstill for the latest from the fronts. From fear they had moved to joy as every bulletin brought news of another advance. Noah sat, head down, crayon poised over the map he had drawn of Israel, on which he colored every bit of newly conquered territory with the blue and white of Israel.
Jerusalem was theirs after two thousand years; the West Bank was falling, Ramallah, Nablus, Hebron, town after town; Jordan was begging for a cease-fire.
Sinai was occupied, Israel’s army stood on the Suez Canal; Egypt’s air force was destroyed, its army demolished; with no military to defend Cairo, Nasser too called for a cease-fire.
Moshe phoned from the newspaper—Syria is next. Noah whooped: “The Golan Heights. Damascus. I may as well color it in now.”
“Shush,” Rachel reprimanded him. “The Adelsons.”
That same morning they had heard the cry of anguish from their neighbor Ida Adelson when she answered the knock on her door. Her husband Yossi had fallen in the battle for Bir Gafkafa. All across Israel hundreds of families were broken by similar news; hospitals were overflowing with the wounded.
“We should hear from Arie soon,” Tamara said, gripping her mother’s hand. “If the fighting in Sinai is over and we’re sitting on the canal, he’ll call. If anyone can find a phone, it’s Arie.”
In the evening Alice telephoned from Rambam Hospital in Haifa. “I heard from Ido,” she said. “A friend of his came to the hospital to visit someone and brought a note. He said he’s having a quiet war, they’re still waiting for orders.”
“Thank God,” Tamara said. “God willing they’ll never come. How are you? Your parents called twice, I told them not to worry, you are safe and well.”
“Safe but not so well. I can’t believe how naïve I was.”
“What are you doing?”
“Whatever I can. Writing letters for the poor boys, cleaning them everywhere, holding their hands. Helping families who visit. It’s horrible, so much crying. There’s no room, they’re lying in the corridors, the doctors and nurses never sleep, there is so much to do, so many to help. I hope Ido never gets any orders to go anywhere.”
“You sound very tired,” Tamara said, “can you get any rest?”
“I go to bed, but I can’t sleep. Tamara, there’s so many of them, they’re all so young. Everywhere it smells of blood. Some of them, all you can see are their eyes, they’re burned all over. When I met Ido he seemed so strong, a god, now I realize … it’s awful, I never imagined … I love him, I hope…” She began to weep, and the line went dead.
Tamara told Rachel, whose eyes filled. Please God, they prayed, bring Arie and Ido home safely. No more war.