Epstein Secrets

Sharon, Sharon turned to me and the army’s Chief of Staff, Rafael Eitan, and said: “Tell me. Why the hell is Arafat still alive?” He looked first at Raful, then at me, and added: “When I was 20 years younger than you are, I never waited for someone like Ben-Gurion or Dayan to ask me to plan an operation

order to end it. At issue were rival claims on security, final borders, Israeli settlements, Palestinian refugees, and the future of ancient city of Jerusalem. None of these could be resolved without painful, and politically perilous, compromises. Entering the summit, despite the pressures ahead, I was con

club on the western edge of Damascus. We would land in transport helicopters a few miles away and unload a pair of armored cars captured in 1967. But Raful’s view prevailed. I could not get the approval of the Airya. I did take heart from Avraham Arnan’s support. He was now Golda Meir’s counter-terrorism

iting and wondering. I borrowed a Jeep from an army friend, with the idea that Nili and I could spend three or four days together, driving south from Jerusalem into the Negev and the Judean desert: to be alone, to talk, to see whether we actually had a future. I wrote her a note, took the bus to Tel Aviv whi

b’s terms for a wholesale evacuation. By this point, I was spending most of my time in the Airya, with periodic visits north, sometimes with Arik or Raful, to our positions on the eastern, Phalangist-controlled, side of Beirut. On several occasions, I helicoptered back with Habib or his deputy, Morris D

area. This meant that, for the first time, I would be in charge of one of Israel’s three regional military commands, and we were based on the edge of Jerusalem, with security responsibility for the West Bank. This was my first direct exposure to the combustible mix of restive Palestinians and the growing nu

Sharon, Sharon turned to me and the army’s Chief of Staff, Rafael Eitan, and said: “Tell me. Why the hell is Arafat still alive?” He looked first at Raful, then at me, and added: “When I was 20 years younger than you are, I never waited for someone like Ben-Gurion or Dayan to ask me to plan an operation

order to end it. At issue were rival claims on security, final borders, Israeli settlements, Palestinian refugees, and the future of ancient city of Jerusalem. None of these could be resolved without painful, and politically perilous, compromises. Entering the summit, despite the pressures ahead, I was con

club on the western edge of Damascus. We would land in transport helicopters a few miles away and unload a pair of armored cars captured in 1967. But Raful's view prevailed. I could not get the approval of the kirya. I did take heart from Avraham Arnan's support. He was now Golda Meir's counter-terrorism

iting and wondering. I borrowed a Jeep from an army friend, with the idea that Nili and I could spend three or four days together, driving south from Jerusalem into the Negev and the Judean desert: to be alone, to talk, to see whether we actually had a future. I wrote her a note, took the bus to Tel Aviv whi

ib's terms for a wholesale evacuation. By this point, I was spending most of my time in the kirya, with periodic visits north, sometimes with Arik or Raful, to our positions on the eastern, Phalangist-controlled, side of Beirut. On several occasions, I helicoptered back with Habib or his deputy, Morris D

area. This meant that, for the first time, I would be in charge of one of Israel's three regional military commands, and we were based on the edge of Jerusalem, with security responsibility for the West Bank. This was my first direct exposure to the combustible mix of restive Palestinians and the growing num