So
you see, there is no need to worry about me. I am
quite safe. See enclosed pics to prove my point! A
big kiss to you all...
Your
loving son and big brother,
Michel
Ester
carefully appraised the pictures of her handsome son
before passing them, one by one, to Joseph. "He
does look well," Ester commented, a small smile
on her face.
Sitting
sideways, Jordan leaned her head on her father's
shoulder, peering at her brother standing next to
the sea, his weapon in his hand. In the background
there were a number of bikini-clad, Lebanese women.
Joseph
winked at his daughter and gave a small laugh.
"Better not show this one to Dinah."
"
Michel
looks like a tourist," Ester mused.
Jordan
made a small sound with her tongue before lifting
her cup for a sip of coffee. Suddenly, unable to
restrain herself, she slammed her cup on the table
causing the coffee to slosh over the white cloth.
Her dark green eyes flashed in anger. "We have
no business in Lebanon!" she exclaimed.
"Michel should resign from the service. And
come home!"
Joseph
grunted, hoping his daughter wouldn't become too
emotional. After Stephen's death over a year ago,
Jordan had become increasingly disenchanted by the
continuous turmoil with the Arabs, dismaying her
family by becoming a Jewish pacifist. Jordan's
endless talk of senseless Jewish aggression did
nothing more than upset the family, particularly her
brother, Michel, who had an opposite point of view.
Michel Gale was a military man who intensely
disliked Israel's Arab population and was convinced
the Israeli nation would never enjoy peace until
every Arab was expelled from the country.
With
one child a hardened warrior and the other a
pacifist, there was no peace in the Gale household.
Much
to Joseph and Ester Gale's sorrow, Michel had grown
up believing that war and killing were a normal part
of life. Only a baby during the 1948 War against the
Arabs, with heroic Jewish soldiers filling the Gale
home, Michel's earliest ambition was to become a
member of the Haganah. When asked why, Michel had
shocked his parents and delighted the soldiers by
replying in his baby voice, "So that I can kill
Arabs."
Deliberately
provocative, Jordan repeated the same words she had
said many times before, "I only wish the two of
you would admit what I know you both think...our
country is built on injustice!"
Suppressing
the retort he longed to utter, Joseph patted
Jordan's hand. "Jordan, please." He took a
deep breath.
The
opposite of her parents and older brother, Jordan
reveled in dramatic outbursts. When she spoke again,
her tone was spiteful. "War and victory! War
and victory! There is no such thing as victory in
war. Every victory is full of holes!"
Ester
glanced at her daughter. "Oh, stop it,
Jordan!"
Hoping
to still Jordan's emotions, Joseph returned to the
subject of Michel. "Your brother will be home
soon, sweetheart. I'm sure when you hear the details
of his mission, you'll agree he had no choice but to
fight the terrorists." Seeing Jordan's face
turn bright red, he continued, "Try not to
upset yourself, sweetie."
Jordan's
bitter memories overcame her and she snatched her
hand away before running from the kitchen and
shrilly shouting at her father. "How will
Michel come home? In a body bag? Like Stephen?"
Joseph
felt the wind go out of his body. He stood up and
started to follow his daughter, but Ester said
smoothly, "Let her go, Joseph. This is one of
her bad days."
Hearing
Jordan's sobs through the thin walls, Joseph felt
drawn and weary. After a long silence, he finally
spoke. "What a pity. Since Stephen's death, our
daughter recognizes nothing good about our
country."
Ester
agreed. "You are right about that, darling.
Jordan can see nothing but defects."
Joseph
and his wife stared at one another for a moment
before Ester returned her attention to Michel's
photographs.
While
his wife continued to stare at their son's likeness,
Joseph walked onto the balcony looking over the
rooftops of his neighbors. The thought of his
daughter's sorrow and the brutal manner of her fiancé's
death blended together and sank into Joseph Gale
like a dagger. "Poor Stephen," he
muttered.
Like
all Israeli men, Stephen Grossman was required to
give three years of mandatory military service.
During the final six months of his service, Stephen
was stationed near Gaza Beach Camp, the most
dangerous of assignments.
Unlike
Michel Gale, Stephen Grossman was a man too
temperate to have been born in a land at war. While
at Gaza, Stephen began to question the
policies of his own country. He thought the Arabs
were treated unfairly, and he often told the Gales
that one day, if they wanted to survive, Jews were
going to have to accept the Arabs as equal partners.
On
his last weekend leave, Stephen had confided to
Jordan that he was looking forward to leaving Gaza,
that no matter how friendly he was, the Arabs looked
at him with faces of pained endurance, like hate
biding its time.
Stephen's
words had been eerily prophetic. The following week,
Stephen Grossman had been kidnapped, tortured, and
chopped to bits with a scimitar. Without knowing it,
the Arabs had killed one of the few Jews sympathetic
to their plight.
