It couldn't possibly hurt

I usually drive to Beer Sheva on Sunday mornings with a very full car.  Between the students / academics going to Ben Gurion University, and the many soldiers that need to reach their bases in the south, every seat is usually booked up by Thursday evening.

However, yesterday I left Efrat with an empty car.

First of all, university is not in session and students are off doing whatever it is that students do during summer break.  Secondly, yesterday was a fast day and many people who didn't absolutely have to work took the day off.  And lastly, because of the disengagement and associated security concerns, very few soldiers have been given weekend passes to come home.

Still, it was odd to walk out to my car on a Sunday morning and not find the young woman from next door (an IDF spokesperson), or the young paratrooper from across the street, or the young lieutenant from a few doors down, all waiting patiently on the curb.

During my drive to Beer Sheva I listened to the news on the radio and heard that several soldiers had been injured in an 'incident'.... four lightly and one (an officer) seriously.  All had been taken to Soroka Hospital in Beer Sheva for treatment.  No further details were given.

An hour later, while I was sitting in my office, the news was reporting more details of the incident and the condition of the soldiers. 

Apparently a Palestinian sniper had been firing into Kfar Darom (one of the Gaza settlement s scheduled to be evacuated in the coming days) all night from a multi-story building. 

This unprovoked attack set two independent responses in motion:  A squad of soldiers was dispatched in an armored personnel carrier towards the site... and a tank was instructed to fire on the sniper's position.  Apparently due to poor coordination between these two responses, one of the tank shells hit the armored personnel carrier as it passed near the building. 

The four lightly wounded soldiers were treated and released from the hospital... but the officer, now being reported as a 22-year-old lieutenant, was in serious condition with multiple system traumas.

By noon I had decided that I'd had enough of my office... I had a headache from fasting (no coffee!)... and I just wanted to stretch out on my couch.  As I was leaving Beer Sheva Zahava called me in the car to ask if I had heard the terrible news.  Before the next sentence had even left her mouth I knew who the wounded lieutenant had to be... it was the young man from a few doors down who frequently hitched a ride with me on Sunday mornings. 

The young soldier who lies unconscious in the ICU at Soroka just a few minutes from my office is not just a blurb on the news or a helpful statistic to balance some even-handed article in the international press. 

He is a handsome young man who lives down the street and always smiles and says hello when he passes me or my kids. 

He and his father join a bunch of men from the neighborhood every Saturday night for an impromptu minyan (prayer quorum) outside my garden gate so we don't have to walk the extra 200 meters to synagogue. 

He is the polite young man who, no matter how many times I tell him to come to the house and wait in our kitchen on Sunday mornings because I'm always, always, always running late... invariably sits patiently on the curb next to my car leaning against a backpack full of freshly laundered uniforms and some of his mother's home-baked snacks for the week ahead.

As I listened to the morning news today I cringed to hear yesterday's tragedy being referred to as a 'friendly fire' incident.  The callous terminology doesn't have any effect on the health or welfare of the young man who's head and body have been savaged by shrapnel.  But the term 'friendly fire' gives the mistaken impression that only friendly forces were involved... and this is simply not the case.

Yes, I am aware that friendly fire happens in war all the time... but the term still bothers me because it removes the incident from the context of who actually set the events in motion!

This wasn't some training accident (of which there are, unfortunately, too many). The Palestinians have been promising all along that they intend to make sure the withdrawal takes place under fire... and that is precisely what they have been doing.  Mortar shells, kassam rockets, roadside bombs, infiltrations... and sniper attacks have all continued (and increased) as the disengagement draws near.  It is obvious that the Palestinians intend to claim a military victory on the eve of disengagement... and so they should.   

Whether one is pro- or anti-disengagement, there is no denying that our 'partners for peace' would be blind not to see disengagement as a big pay-off for years of terrorism. 

We're not talking about some fringe group within the Palestinian camp misreading the signs here.  The 'grand pooba' of the PA himself has spent the past two weeks making speeches about "First we take Gaza... next we take Jerusalem!".  There isn't much ambiguity in such a statement.

You can mark your calendars boys and girls, this is the big kick-off for the next Intifada... and this one will make use of all the lessons they've learned so far from our 'measured' approach. 

Instead of kassams and mortars falling on Gush Katif and Sderot... they will begin raining down on Gush Dan (greater Tel Aviv) and Jerusalem.  This is the big push, and the PA will be pulling out all the stops to make sure the next concession they force from us will be a big one.

Personally, I am beyond caring.  We will certainly have to respond on a massive scale...  probably much more widely than operation Homat Magen in the spring of 2002.  And when we do the world will scream bloody murder that we are targeting civilians (aren't they all civilians?) and perpetrating a massacre.  In a sense they will be right.  Many people on both sides will die.

As heartless as my assessment may sound, I actually think I am understating the next phase of the Palestinian 'war of phases'.  But Sharon says he knows what he's doing... so I guess we'll find out one way or another since we don't really have a choice. 

I really don't care.  I'm concentrating on the small victories just now.

I want to come out to my car on a Sunday morning some time soon and see a handsome young lieutenant sitting on the curb, leaning comfortably against a backpack filled with freshly laundered uniforms and his mother's home baked treats.  That's the victory I'm looking for.

So, if you go in for such things, please include Elroi (pronounced 'el-rowee') ben Galia Glynis in your prayers. 

And if religion isn't your bag... please just say his name quietly to yourself and think good thoughts. This is one of those situations where it couldn't possibly hurt.