Epstein Secrets

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

the fruit groves of Kibbutz Ha’on, near the Sea of Galilee. I then headed for Givataim in north Tel Aviv, to a place I knew well. It was the home of Menachem Digli. He had been Avraham Arnan’s deputy in the sayeret when I left for my stint in officers’ school. Before I returned to the unit, he had a motorcycle a

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

d to find an answer for all these threats. Uzi Yairi’s term as Sayeret Matkal commander had by now ended, but his successor was someone I knew well. Menachem Digli was the officer on whom I’d bestowed my stolen Syrian Mercedes at the end of the war. His leg was now recovered from the motorcycle accident, and I r

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'

the fruit groves of Kibbutz Ha' on, near the Sea of Galilee. I then headed for Givataim in north Tel Aviv, to a place I knew well. It was the home of Menachem Digli. He had been Avraham Arnan's deputy in the sayeret when I left for my stint in officers' school. Before I returned to the unit, he had a motorcycle a

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

ed to find an answer for all these threats. Uzi Yairi's term as Sayeret Matkal commander had by now ended, but his successor was someone I knew well. Menachem Digli was the officer on whom I'd bestowed my stolen Syrian Mercedes at the end of the war. His leg was now recovered from the motorcycle accident, and I r