Sarah 8

And now we're three kilometers away from an abandoned greenhouse, now a tiny IDF station. Reason we rendezvous is so our messages can go back in their radio chatter; we maintain strict radio silence.
Easy tone, Sarge says, "use night vision binocs, scan."
I do, then, "nothing other than standard station lights."
She takes the binocs and looks, then, "use that Infra Red, let's see what you can pick up."
"Sarge, readings show eight adult males, weights listed here."
"But how would we know Palestinians hadn't knocked over the place, and there is eight of them?"
I call up records, "possible Sarge, but then how would the Palestinians know to send the right weight of raiders? This IR is accurate to two kilos body weight."
"Still, use your power of deduction. Do positions show hostile intent or relaxed atmosphere?"
"Those five round the table, it's a card game or eating cold chow. If they were eating hot chow, would show as hotter than ambient temperature. From the arm movements, I would guess it's cards, not eating."
"Good, the rest?"
"Those two sit at the right distance from that TV."
"Notice anything different, them versus the card players?"
"Body temperatures elevated."
"I see, so they're watching something more interesting than cards?"
I blush, glad the darkness of the control room hides it. Level voice, "that reading is usually associated with fever or watching porn."
"Good and the 8th?"
"In position to take rendezvous."
"Which one is doing rendezvous?"
I check weights, "obvious it's the Sgt, heaviest person."
"Ok, safe to make contact. Remember tonight's code?"
"One long green flash, followed by a short red." Which will turn in our nil report, let the High Command know we've spotted nothing on the Negev.
"Driver, do not await my command. Immediately after the signal is sent, shift position thirty meters to starboard."
"Aye Sarge."
I send. A second later, the reply comes back, correct, three dashes and two dots on a flashlight.
"Driver, make tracks. Silent running for the first twenty klicks."
"Aye Sarge."
Long before sunup, we've chosen a wadi. Dozens to choose from, never the same two days in a row. We power down, park. Given the wadi's cover, our camouflage and the fact we send out no signals, we'd be hard to spot. Still, we take turns observing.
Everyone gets a rotation of the joe jobs, except Ruth. As driver, she has maintenance; also is not trained on our equipment.
I cook a hearty breakfast of beef sausages, eggs, toast and coffee.
Karen grins, "kid, before you got here, we rotated cooking. That's why we all looked so thin and unhappy."
Everyone laughs.
She continues, "pure heaven, can always tell them as was raised in a large family." (code word for Haredi.)
"Thank you."
Lily smiles, "very kind of you to agree, do it alla time. Least it gets you outa other stuff. You're a fabulous cook."
I blush, "just nice to have enough, get good stuff. Also feels nice to get thanks."
Karen grins, "by that I assume you mean the men aren't forthcoming."
I nod.
The silence hangs in the air a moment. Finally tentatively Lily starts, "ah look, we bin talking. This ain't one of them pi**ant places where nothing happens. No, we're different. If things are quiet, could spend your whole hitch on stuff like this. On the other hand, next week we could be going to Lebanon or Syria or even Iran." She peters out, runs outa energy.
Karen jumps in, "see a month from now, we could all die together. So, gotta be a high level of trust. We don't mean to be offensive, but one thing we gotta know."
"What's that?"
Karen blushes a bit, "when one comes from a group that rarely provides draftees (code word again), there's always a story behind any who show up. So ah well"
Lily jumps in, "we wanna know, why ain't you married? Why are you here?"
I glance at Sarge, who nods.
"No great secret, was in alla papers. Who remembers the mega riot in Ramallah a year ago?"
Nods all round.
"There was one death. Everyone remember was a yeshiva student?"
Nods.
"Well, he was my fiance. Happened two weeks before my 18th birthday."
Karen frowns, "I recall, guys got off easy, four month draft hitch. Least they get to go back after. You on the other hand, nowhere to go, won't take you back, right?"
I nod.
"Bloody unfair." Pause, "know what you need to do, I mean after your hitch is up?"
"I'm all ears."
"Sabras, real Israelis, they'll never accept you. Oh yes, work with you polite, but never be friends. So, pick foreigners who've done Aliyah, Americans are besta the lot."
"Why is that?"
"Heard them talking, view you as the last true Jews."
"Thanks."
Lily says, "more than just that. See Israel ain't a big place, almost like everyone knows everyone else, what with school, youth groups, summer camp, army hitch. So, person gets to 21, already has enough friends, ain't really seeking more. Foreigners, they're outside of those groups, need the friendship. In fact, don't find it, they'll go back home. So, Americans need you as much as you need them."