Epstein Secrets

Front for the Liberation of Palestine launched an even more audacious operation. It became known by the name of the airport where the ordeal ended. Entebbe. And when it began I, like Uzi Yairi, was sitting at my desk. 164 HOUSE_OVERSIGHT_011635 Chapter Ten Sunday is an ordinary working day in Israel,

ct, form of confrontation with the “Zionist enemy.” Arafat had set up camp with nearly a thousand men just across the Jordan River, in a town called Karameh. From early 1968, they had been launching hit- and-run raids, not just on the West Bank but into the Negev. Eshkol’s cabinet was initially divided on

Matkal might be called in, and my instincts told me we should proceed with caution. The situation we were facing felt nothing like Sabena, much less Entebbe. Here, we had a single bus. Our troops, and in fact everyone from ministers and officials to reporters and photographers, were in a loose cordon a co

ut. My own hope was that the nod would go to any even closer friend of mine: Dan Shomron. I had first got to know Dan well in the late sixties after Karameh, Israel’s costly standoff with Arafat, when Fatah’s influence was in its infancy. We exchanged impressions on what had gone wrong, and why? When I be

r Front for the Liberation of Palestine launched an even more audacious operation. It became known by the name of the airport where the ordeal ended. Entebbe. And when it began I, like Uzi Yairi, was sitting at my desk. 164 HOUSE_OVERSIGHT_028012 Chapter Ten Sunday is an ordinary working day in Israel, an

ect, form of confrontation with the "Zionist enemy." Arafat had set up camp with nearly a thousand men just across the Jordan River, in a town called Karameh. From early 1968, they had been launching hit- and-run raids, not just on the West Bank but into the Negev. Eshkol's cabinet was initially divided on

Matkal might be called in, and my instincts told me we should proceed with caution. The situation we were facing felt nothing like Sabena, much less Entebbe. Here, we had a single bus. Our troops, and in fact everyone from ministers and officials to reporters and photographers, were in a loose cordon a co

rut. My own hope was that the nod would go to any even closer friend of mine: Dan Shomron. I had first got to know Dan well in the late sixties after Karameh, Israel's costly standoff with Arafat, when Fatah's influence was in its infancy. We exchanged impressions on what had gone wrong, and why? When I be