It was Christmas Eve 1977, when my platoon was sent to Bethlehem to help calm
the unrest that had started a week previous. The thought of policing demonstrators
disturbing worship at the Church of The Nativity was not something we were looking
foward to...
let the local cops or military police handle it. It was not the first
time we were assigned such duty, twice before we were sent into the Rafah refugee
camp in the Gaza Strip, so we knew what to expect.
To our surprise things went smoother than we anticipated and with the help of
the local clergy, we were able to disperse the crowd without firing a shot.
As things quieted down, we allowed the worshippers to enter the church. It was
close to midnight and we were about to return to our base.
As I exited the church, I bumped into a nun, knocking her down.
I extended my hand, apologizing as I helped her to her feet. She was black and
from her accent I could tell she was British. As she thanked me, she smiled and
I looked into her eyes. I stared at her amazed...her eyes were dark brown, but
what gripped me was the light in them. I had never seem anything as wonderful as
that light. It was love, joy, compassion...understanding.
Embarrased, I broke my gaze and lowered my eyes, now fixing on the cross that
hung from her neck.
"That is beautiful!" I said.
She reached down and removed it from around her neck..
"Here" she said, extending her arm, offering it me.
"No, I cant take that" I said, my eyes now fixing on her's again.
She then took my left hand, put the cross in it closing my fingers, still holding
my hand in her's she told me.."G-d wants you to have this". I was instantly
aware of a warmth washing over me, and could not speak as she nodded, walking
past me into the church. I looked down, opening my hand I looked again at the
cross's simple beauty. I put it in the left pocket of my parka, zipping it while I
trotted to the truck that would take us back to base.


Just over a month had passed. It was Friday, I had finished my medical training
as a squad medic and had recieved my transfer orders. I was packing to go home
for the weekend when i heard the news..a busload of tourists traveling the coastal
route had been attacked by Mr. Arafat's PLO. All 30 plus of it's passengers were
killed as the terrorsts blew themselves up, praising Allah no doubt.
When all leaves were canceled, I kinda knew what was coming next.
Growing tiresome of the continuous rocket attacks on it's northern settlements
from within Lebanon, the Israeli government was looking for an excuse to widen
it's "buffer zone" in the southern part of that country.
An area occupied by the Lebanese Christian Militia, it extended from the Mediterranian
Sea to the Syrian border and was supported completely by the Israeli Govt.
Every weapon, tank, uniform, rations and even salaries were subsidized by Israel.
It was in their best interest to do so.
And so, that friday night my unit was mobilized..sent north to await further orders.



Three days.
For three days we sat and waited.
The rain was relentless...so much so, that we knew we were'nt going anywhere just yet.
After all..nothing favored good warfare like fair weather.

Three damn days I sat and waited.
So many thoughts running through my mind...
The first, and in retrospect the least important, was mom.
Mom would be worried.
She expected me home this weekend, and no doubt seeing the news, was gonna think the
worst and freak.
The next..actual warfare.
Would I lose it?
Would I prove to be a coward?
No.
I was sure.
That wasn't me.
And finally..if needed, would I actually remember any of my medical training??
That was the one thought that pulled at me.
I could die for my country and what I believed in, but the thought of one of my
mates dying in my arms because I, the medic, couldn't remember what to do to
help, tormented me.

I was the worst in my class.
I had failed every written exam in the course.
Having Hebrew as my second language made it difficult for me, but that was
irrelevant to my instructors.
I was informed that if I didnt achieve a 90% or higher in the final practical exam..
Triage, I'd fail the course and have to start over.

I finished 2nd in my class with 97%.

The briefing.
At last we were to find out what our mission was.
They made it sound like a walk in the park.
Two weeks max.
We were going in to widen the zone.
Take a couple of hostile villages, let the Militia occupy them and pull out.
No big deal.
They called it "Operation Litani".

The rain had stopped that evening and at 3:00 am the next morning 5,000 of us crossed
the border into Lebanon.


The APV was cold.
Creeper cold.
The kind of moist windy cold you can't defend yourself against.
Gets under all your layers.
I cupped my hands and blew into them as I looked around the interior of the vehicle.
Eight of us.
Half my squad, bunched up along with our gear,plus
the driver and the Mac..vehicle commander, the Sarge who manned the .50 Calibur.
The other half of my squad was in the vehicle behind us.
I unzipped the pockets of my parka and thrust my frigid hands into their depth.
My left hand felt a foreign object.
The Cross!
The one from Bethlehem.
I rubbed my fingers around it and felt a strange warmth.
I smiled.
I had not realized my unease until I felt the calm that now washed over me.

As we rumbled on I leaned my head back, closed my eyes and wondered at what was to come.