Avraham Azrieli - The Jerusalem inception

Tanya got up and poured a glass of milk for him. They stood together by the wooden box of the radio, listening. The lead news was the U.S. declaration of a weapons embargo on Israel until it allowed an American inspection of the nuclear reactor in Dimona, to which Moshe Dayan responded, “With friends like this, who needs enemies?” The White House also denied Eshkol’s claim that the Americans promised that the Sixth Fleet would intervene should Egypt attack Israel. President Johnson issued an explicit statement: “ There will be an absolute neutrality by all American forces in the Middle East under all circumstances! ” To top it all off, the Voice of Israel reported that Abba Eban had failed to convince the UN Security Council to issue a resolution calling for cessation of hostilities and commencement of peace negotiations.

When the announcer moved on to news about the results of the National Bible Bee, Tanya asked, “Do you want something to eat?”

Lemmy knuckled the radio box. “Why are we begging the world for help? If the Arabs want a fight, let’s give them a fight!”

“It’s not so simple. Eshkol and his ministers are old men who grew up in Eastern Europe, where Jewish survival depended on the Gentile authorities’ protection.”

“But now we have an army!”

“A small army, poorly equipped, and outnumbered by massive Arab militaries equipped with the best Soviet death machines.”

The voice of opposition leader Menachem Begin sounded from the radio: “At this time of historic peril for our nascent Zionist dream, we must put aside personal and political rivalries and call upon David Ben Gurion to return as prime minister and lead Israel to victory!”

“There’s a sign of panic.” Tanya shut off the radio. “The wolf calls the lion to fight off the hyena.”

The Deux Chevaux took a few attempts to start. He placed the Uzi in his lap and folded up the half-window, bolting it in the open position. The car had the sour odor of burnt nicotine, but Lemmy did not ask Tanya whose car it was or who had smoked in it. She was twice his age, beautiful, smart, and independent. A woman like Tanya Galinski couldn’t be satisfied with an eighteen-year-old yeshiva dropout, let alone a soldier who was away most of the time. This must be the reason she had arranged a room for him with Bira.

They reached the hills west of the city. The road followed a long fence, ending in a dirt parking lot near an iron gate. A sign read: Sanhedriah Cemetery.

The sight hit Lemmy with the reality of the situation. His mother was buried here. He hesitated before getting out of the car. How could she be dead? He shut his eyes and felt her presence, smelled the raw fish and dish-washing soap, and saw her hand tighten her headdress. He thought of the hot chocolate she had made for him every morning, and his throat constricted. He pushed the memories away, determined not to cry in front of Tanya, and stepped into the sun.

Through the gate he saw a vast hillside dotted with tombstones. Farther to the right, beyond the stones, a group of rabbis formed a cluster of swaying black coats. They chanted prayers while one of them piled stones to form a marker. The group marched a good distance away and repeated the process of praying in the open field while another stone marker was erected.

Tanya asked, “What are they doing?”

Lemmy had never actually seen this done, but he knew the relevant Talmudic rules. “They’re expanding the burial grounds,” he explained. “Before a Jew could be buried, certain blessings must be recited over the soil to sanctify the site as a Jewish cemetery. Only then it is ready to provide a resting place until the Messiah comes and announces the Day of Resurrection.” He watched the group march again, almost out of sight, where they repeated the ritual. “That’s a lot of sacred grounds,” he said. “Are they expecting a plague or something?”

“A war,” Tanya said. “A terrible, bloody war.”

An old man at a flower stand accepted a few coins and handed Tanya a small bouquet. Lemmy was not sure whether his mother had liked flowers. She had never had any in the house.

“Let’s go.” He headed to the gate.

“Not there.”

He stopped and turned to Tanya.

“We need to go around.” She gestured. “Your mother is buried over there.”

“But this is the only entrance.” He pointed at the gate.

Tanya’s face, usually as smooth as porcelain, was creased in pain. She reached to touch his arm. “She’s buried outside the fence.”

Lemmy tried to digest the information. Again he felt as if in a dream, or a nightmare, where things seemed real but were not. Outside the fence?

Tanya wiped her tears with the back of her hand. “She hanged herself.”

A fleeting image of his mother at the end of a rope made Lemmy groan. He could see the noose tighten around her white neck, tilting her head sideways, her mouth agape, her tongue stuck out, thick and purple, her eyes wide and focused on him.

He grabbed the fence and shook it, fighting to control himself, to drive away the image.

But then the comprehension shocked him again. His father had buried her outside the sanctified grounds of the cemetery! Lemmy no longer believed in those rules, but she had believed! According to Talmud, she would be excluded from the ultimate resurrection of the righteous. And until then, her stone would stand out, attracting derision and mockery. “He is evil,” Lemmy yelled. “Evil! How could he do this to her? She lived for him!”

“He had no choice.”

“He could’ve done her this last favor!”

Tanya put her hands around him. “It was a suicide. Your father had to bury her outside the fence-”

“That’s a lie!”

B rigadier General Tappuzi shut the door to his office. “Okay, Weiss. What’s on your mind?”

“The UN radar.” Elie approached the map. His finger traced the road from Government House, circled east of the Old City to the Mandelbaum Gate, across the border, and over to the IDF command, which was marked with a blue Star of David. “About twelve minutes of driving.”

“So?” Tappuzi tapped the table with a pencil.

“I could get a man in there, blow it up.”

“That’s it? That’s your plan?” Tappuzi grabbed a bunch of papers stapled together. “This, for example, is a plan for a military operation. It has three parts: When? Where? What? How? ”

“That’s four parts.”

“Who’s counting?”

“Do you want to hear my plan?”

“But Galinski said Mossad won’t risk sending in a team!”

“Mossad is a bureaucracy. My SOD is different. That’s why it’s called Special. We can do it.”

Tappuzi sat down. “Give me a step-by-step.”

“Forty-eight hours before the IDF launches first strike, you summon General Odd Bull to a meeting here. We disable his car, and an identical vehicle, driven by an Indian-looking soldier in UN drab, crosses the border to Government House. A second man hides in the Jeep with a bag of explosives. He slips into the UN building, the driver turns around and drives back across the border to a safe house. General Bull’s car is fixed, your meeting with him ends, and he goes back. Our guy at Government House hides and waits. Moments before war starts, we give him a signal and he blows up the radar. Mission accomplished.”

“Daring, but full of holes. And even assuming everything works out, how will you get him out?”

“Same drill. You call Bull for an emergency meeting, which will make sense considering the breakout of hostilities, and we send our fake UN Jeep to pluck out our boy.”

“Odd Bull is not dumb,” Tappuzi said. “He’ll suspect a ploy when I call him minutes after his radar blew up.”

“It’ll look like an accident. There are gasoline tanks behind the radar station.”