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

lani Brigade. In December 1954, a handover mission was organized. Three men from Company A, including one of Meir’s sergeants, joined three from the Golani Brigade. But they didn’t even hold a joint exercise before setting off. There was also a lack of clarity about who was in charge. Though the Golani c

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

office. “Motta just told them that there is a military option,” he said, with a wry smile. Kuti had been a Haganah officer in 1948, in charge of the Golani brigade, head of both the northern and the southern command, and had known Motta for years. “That means we now have to find one.” I had just begun b

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

lani Brigade. In December 1954, a handover mission was organized. Three men from Company A, including one of Meir’s sergeants, joined three from the Golani Brigade. But they didn’t even hold a joint exercise before setting off. There was also a lack of clarity about who was in charge. Though the Golani c

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

office. "Motta just told them that there is a military option," he said, with a wry smile. Kuti had been a Haganah officer in 1948, in charge of the Golani brigade, head of both the northern and the southern command, and had known Motta for years. "That means we now have to find one." I had just begun br