8/14/2019 Missiles or No Missiles

http://slidepdf.com/reader/full/missiles-or-no-missiles 1/1

“Missiles or no missiles”

The memories of the unfortunate war with Lebanon or as it was termed the second

Lebanese war, have almost been forgotten; neither those clumsy politicians that have

conducted it, nor the public wished to be reminded of it and of its results. Thus the

Prime minister’s office “strategic advisors”, who are none but a bunch of copywriters

and advertisers, could ommit these days at last, some eleven months later a sigh of relief. While most of us derlict citizens are trodding on disillusioned, and some of the

few unlucky ones, who’re stuck in a forsken city in the south, are still praying to god

to defend them, against the daily missile attacks – while the government does nothing

at all.

Life goes on unhindered particularly in the country’s center, where meanwhile there is

no threat of missiles neither from the north nor from the south, and it won’t last…

Some miracles keep happening though, such as the stock exchange rise for instance,

and the government’s political survival – in spite of everthing.

During these very days of summer a certain friend of mine happened to attend a

family meeting.not far from Jerusalem; in a christian Arab village with quite a famous

church, where religious international concerts are being conducted every summer.He met almost all his relatives and many friends, and they have joined two huge

tables to be seated together all of them. The conversation was very lively and the issue

of course was the last war. Eveyone among his relatives had his say, his tales – but

these were tales of reminiscences out of the safety and cosiness of a living room,

watching TV newsreels; opinning on what such or such minister had to say, or how

some famous commentator of that channel or the other criticised the government, or 

the IDF generals from the safety of his plush studio.

It must have enraged Rickie his cousin and when she spoke silence fell and all

listened attentively. They have three sons, two of them served in this war. The

youngest was still doing his compulsory service, in a commando unit and was inside

Lebanon even before the war broke out. Their eldest was summoned for reserve

service, and crossed the border two days later – while their third son was on vacation

in India, after having done his military service in the same commando unit. He

 phoned his parents and was readey to return right away, but they urged him to stay till

this foolish war would end up – and a foolish war it was, in the way in which it was

conducted; sending troops inside and pulling them out a few hours later, turning them

into easy targets for anti tank missiles.

Thus the possibility to meet their two sons almost every day was created, and they did

not miss their chance. Every morning at four am Rickie and her husband drove up

north – “missiles or no missiles” as she said with much detemination, as if she was

living those early hours and the meeting with their sons once again. The Hizboolahcould shoot their two hundred missiles per day on the Northern part of our country,

 but that did not deter Rickie and her husband to reach their sons. He concluded with

much proud. ‘Well they were lucky, their two sons have fought the enemy and

returned alive, neither a bullet nor a sharpnel did scratch their skin, while many others

died or were wounded in that brutal war, in which anti tanks missiles were used

against individual warriors.

‘Yeah, just think of it,’ he added, ‘to cross the North while Katiusha missiles kept

falling all around them – do you want to know what courage is, that’s the norm.’