22
Palestine 1947
The young Arab boy slept peacefully through the rest of the night. In the morning, he awoke and looked around as if he’d forgotten where he was and what happened. He stretched then grabbed at his side.
“It will hurt for a while,” I said and handed him a bowl with olives, bread and cheese and a mug of steaming tea. “But you are young and will heal quickly.”
“He didn’t understand a word you said.”
I looked over at Irit who had just entered the tent.
“I know, but the food will do the talking. At least he knows we’re not the enemy.”
“Let’s hope you’re right,” she replied.
“You did a good job on him, Major. Very impressive.”
“You mean since he’s still alive, things went well?” She gave me a half-smile.
“Something like that.”
“Very unexpected.”
I looked at her. “Com
