He stood up, his face drawn and haggard, his seventy-four years weighing heavy on him. Then the inevitability of it all struck at him. Events had driven him down this road with an unrelenting sureness, as if the fates had conspired against him. For a moment he thought of a Greek drama. Is this the price to be paid in a quest for power? he thought. My family? “We go with Trinity,” he ordered. “Transmit the order for an immediate launch and execute.” He walked out of the room.
The men gaped at each other, surprised by his sudden disappearance. “That was a note from Melissa,” Cox explained. “She asked if he could come to the hospital immediately.”
Shoshana had lost track of time and the number of runs they had made hauling out wounded. For the two women, the war was confined to a small piece of real estate on the southern end of the valley and they had watched the fighting ebb and flow as the Iraqis would attack, fall back, re-form, and then attack again. Shoshana was sure of only one thing, they were holding on. Time meant nothing and she wasn’t sure if the battle had been going on for two or three days. Her world was made up of an APC stinking with diesel fule unwashed bodies, and the sickly warm smell of open wounds and antiseptic.
“Over to the left,” Hanni said, using her periscope to guide Shoshana to another pickup. They were working their way down a hill, using what terrain masking they could find and hiding in the growing shadows of night. Shoshana mashed the accelerator and urged the APC out of the shallow wadi they were in and over the bank. The nose of the APC was coming back down when Shoshana heard Hanni scream, “Nooo!” The engine compartment next to her exploded. A wave of heat washed over Shoshana and knocked her out of the driver’s seat and against the left wall. She was vaguely aware of hands pulling at her, dragging her back into the crew compartment. Then the rear ramp was down and Hanni was half dragging her, half carrying her back into the dry streambed where they had been a moment ago.
“Wha—?” Shoshana was still groggy from the concussion.
“An RPG got us,” Hanni said. “The rocket-propelled grenade’s shape-charged warhead had struck them in the front right corner and the engine compartment had absorbed most of the blast. “I saw it at the last minute, but damn, I can’t figure out where it came from.” The APC erupted in a violent explosion and they could feel the heat. “We were lucky and took the hit in the engine compartment.” Hanni was close to babbling, a way to ease the tension and fear that bound her. “Good thing you were wearing that Nomex jumpsuit underneath your NBC suit. I couldn’t believe it, flames shot out of the firewall all over you. I thought for sure you were dead.”
Shoshana felt the side of her tanker’s helmet. It felt warm through her gloves. She tugged her helmet and gloves off and touched the right side of her neck. Hanni scrambled backdown to her and examined her friend’s neck. “It looks like a bad sunburn,” she said. “Probably the only part of your skin that was exposed.”
“I’m okay,” Shoshana reassured her. She could feel the warm front zipper of the flight suit against her skin and realized why the flap that had chafed at her had been there. Shoshana wished she hadn’t given in to a whim of vanity and cut it off to tie up her hair. She crawled up the low bank in front of her and looked over the edge. The heat from their burning APC made her duck her head. “Did you see one of our APCs down in the valley?” Shoshana asked.
Hanni crawled up beside her and looked over the edge. She could barely see the vehicle in the growing dark. She pulled her head back down. “There’s five or six men out there,” she whispered. “Arabs.”
Now Shoshana looked again. Through the light of the burning APC, she could see four Iraqi soldiers leading two wounded Israeli soldiers. One of the Iraqis gave an order and the men pushed the Israelis to the ground and started shooting. It was over in a moment and Shoshana watched in horror as they bayoneted the bodies. The four men started moving toward the wadi. Shoshana held a finger to her lips and pointed downslope toward the APC they had seen. The two women crawled back down into the wadi and quickly disappeared into the shadows, leaving Shoshana’s helmet and gloves behind.
The wadi they were following opened out into a flat area thirty meters from the APC the two women were headed for. Shoshana held her left hand out behind her and made a down motion, telling Hanni to stay back in the shadows. She crouched and ran across the open area, safely reaching the side of the APC. Up close in the dark, she could see that its left track had been blown off, probably by an RPG, she decided, judging from the lack of other damage. Under the scorch marks, she could make out a red cross on the Toga armor. It had been a Band-Aid like theirs. She motioned for Hanni to join her and the woman scampered across the open area, collapsing into the protective shadow of the APC.
Shoshana worked her way to the rear of the APC, again motioning Hanni to stay back. She poked her head around the rear and then pulled back in revulsion. A convulsive gaspwracked her body and she bet over, throwing up, choking. Hanni was beside her, trying to help. Shoshana gasped for air, “Don’t look.”
“What is it, child?” the older woman murmured and then looked despite the warning. Stretched out in front of her on the ground were the bodies of two Israeli female medics. They had been stripped, staked to the ground, raped, then gutted. Their intestines were spread over their abdomens and flowed between their legs.
A “My God!” burst from Hanni followed by a retching sound.
Slowly, they brought their nausea and fears under control. Both had seen the horror, death, and destruction of modern warfare and had learned to live with it. But this was a vicious and senseless torture and mutilation that went far beyond war. For each of them it was a personal battle as they fought for their sanity.
The sounds of movement in the wadi drove them both into silence and they crawled under the APC. The same four soldiers Shoshana had seen murder the two wounded POWs emerged out of the dark and angled away from them, avoiding the APC. “They know what’s here,” Shoshana whispered and waited until the four men were well out of sight. She crawled out from under the APC and worked her way into the crew compartment. Hanni followed her. “Don’t move them” Shoshana said, pointing toward the bodies. “As long as they’re out there, the Iraqis will stay away.”
Hanni curled up in a knot on the floor, clasped her legs to her breast and rocked back and forth, still fighting her inner demons. She could hear Shoshana fumbling in the dark. Then the whine of the radio came on as Shoshana found the right switches. Now Hanni could hear the low crackle of the radio and Shoshana’s voice. “Mayday. This is Band-Aid with a Mayday.”
“Copy, Band-Aid.” It was Levy’s voice. “Say position.” Shoshana told him where they were. “Stay where you are,” he replied, his voice filling them with hope. “We’ll come and get you.” Hanni stopped her rocking and tears streamed down her cheeks.
Shoshana knelt down and hugged her. “Now we have to wait. It may be a while. But we’ve got all night.”
“The position of the United States is very clear,” the minister of foreign affairs was saying. “They are pressing us on all diplomatic fronts to accept the cease-fire.”
“I got the message,” Ben David rumbled. “It’s unacceptable. The interests of the United States are not ours.” The prime minister was stalking back and forth in the command bunker’s largest conference room. The meeting of the Israeli cabinet about the sudden cut-off of supplies was near its end and the whir of the air conditioner could be heard in the silence. Ben David turned to his cabinet. “How can we stop now, short of a victory that would give our people peace for generations? This may be our last chance to crush our enemies. How else can we justify the sacrifices my people have made?”