Epstein Secrets

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

Syria. The special technology unit attached to military intelligence had developed a bugging device designed to be placed on a telephone pole on the Golan. The task of installing it was given to the most decorated, and respected, commando unit in the army: Company A in Sharon’s paratroop battalion, led

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

the 1967 war, before going off to university. He’d taken a bullet in the elbow while helping to rescue one of his soldiers behind Syrian lines on the Golan. “He wants to return to the army, and he’s exactly the kind of officer you want,” Bibi said. I brought Yoni in for a chat. Over the next several yea

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

Syria. The special technology unit attached to military intelligence had developed a bugging device designed to be placed on a telephone pole on the Golan. The task of installing it was given to the most decorated, and respected, commando unit in the army: Company A in Sharon’s paratroop battalion, led

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

the 1967 war, before going off to university. He'd taken a bullet in the elbow while helping to rescue one of his soldiers behind Syrian lines on the Golan. "He wants to return to the army, and he's exactly the kind of officer you want," Bibi said. I brought Yoni in for a chat. Over the next several year