43
Palestine 1947
I slept fitfully. Parked at the opposite ends of a couch with Eli, he kept jabbing me in the face with his big toe. I felt tempted to break it but that would have affected the outcome of the mission. And the mission was everything. Or so I was told in numerous ways by just about everyone.
After breakfast, I checked the gear, checked again and then checked it a third time.
“Geez,” Eli said. “Are you nervous or what? Since when did you become such a worrier?”
I wanted to smack the fag out of his pouty lips.
“Since my life depended on it, you little s**t. That’s a lesson you’d better learn.”
He put his hands up in mock defense. “All right, killer. I’ve checked everything over. It’s fine. All good to go.”
“I hope so.”
“You worry too much, Mo.”
“That’s what’s kept me
