Epstein Secrets

uld later become the head of Israel’s National Parks Authority. It had a padlocked metal grill on the back which held two jerrycans of gasoline. Yori Cohen, the commander of the back-up team, and I spotted the fuel containers at the same time. We couldn’t help smiling. Yes, we were about to embark on an

hing similar. Inside was a note from the chief of staff. “For the success of the operation,” General Tzur had written. “Minus two bottles... to teach Ehud Brog not to shut off his field radio.” I assumed that his reprimand was tongue-in-cheek, for the same reason I’d escaped being locked up on General Yoffe

ince their high school days at the Alliance. I had first met Nava Cohen, the woman I would go on to marry, the previous year. It was through another Cohen, though they were not related: Nechemia, my sayeret friend who was killed in the 1967 war. He invited me to Tel Aviv for a party in the spring, on th

sh were the army security people that before I’d left for Stanford, 146 HOUSE_OVERSIGHT_011617 they even insisted I change my name. I was no longer Ehud Brog. I’d Hebraicized it: to Barak, which seemed near enough to the original. Among the few dozen outside the unit who did know about my role, however, we

uld later become the head of Israel's National Parks Authority. It had a padlocked metal grill on the back which held two jerrycans of gasoline. Yori Cohen, the commander of the back-up team, and I spotted the fuel containers at the same time. We couldn't help smiling. Yes, we were about to embark on an

hing similar. Inside was a note from the chief of staff. "For the success of the operation," General Tzur had written. "Minus two bottles... to teach Ehud Brog not to shut off his field radio." I assumed that his reprimand was tongue-in-cheek, for the same reason I'd escaped being locked up on General Yoffe'

since their high school days at the Alliance. I had first met Nava Cohen, the woman I would go on to marry, the previous year. It was through another Cohen, though they were not related: Nechemia, my sayeret friend who was killed in the 1967 war. He invited me to Tel Aviv for a party in the spring, on th

ish were the army security people that before I'd left for Stanford, 146 HOUSE_OVERSIGHT_027994 they even insisted I change my name. I was no longer Ehud Brog. I'd Hebraicized it: to Barak, which seemed near enough to the original. Among the few dozen outside the unit who did know about my role, however, we