Epstein Secrets

n, south of Beirut. In front of us, troops from the Golani Brigade were completing their takeover of Beirut airport. “You were right,” I told Uri and Yossi. They had been in charge of the simulation exercise in the Airya, predicting how Arik’s ostensibly more limited invasion plan would inevitably develo

arations for the operation against Saddam Hussein. When the “story” broke, I was nearly five thousand miles away. I was accompanying Nava’s brother, Doron Cohen, on a business trip he was making to China — and savoring my last few days as a private citizen between my three decades of military service and my e

Yossi Ginossar, the former Shin Bet officer who was closest to the Palestinian leader among the Israelis, to set up an informal meeting. I added, to Yossi’s obvious satisfaction and surprise, that I'd be willing to have the meeting in Arafat’s cabin if that’s what he preferred. The next afternoon, I wen

d of becoming an Israeli soldier and politician, I would have become the closest thing to a Palestinian equivalent. Still, as even my brother-in-law, Doron Cohen, told me when he phoned a couple of hours later, it was not the most astute thing to say as a potential candidate for Prime Minister. None of this m

n, south of Beirut. In front of us, troops from the Golani Brigade were completing their takeover of Beirut airport. "You were right," I told Uri and Yossi. They had been in charge of the simulation exercise in the kirya, predicting how Arik's ostensibly more limited invasion plan would inevitably develo

parations for the operation against Saddam Hussein. When the "story" broke, I was nearly five thousand miles away. I was accompanying Nava's brother, Doron Cohen, on a business trip he was making to China - and savoring my last few days as a private citizen between my three decades of military service and my e

Yossi Ginossar, the former Shin Bet officer who was closest to the Palestinian leader among the Israelis, to set up an informal meeting. I added, to Yossi's obvious satisfaction and surprise, that I'd be willing to have the meeting in Arafat's cabin if that's what he preferred. The next afternoon, I wen

d of becoming an Israeli soldier and politician, I would have become the closest thing to a Palestinian equivalent. Still, as even my brother-in-law, Doron Cohen, told me when he phoned a couple of hours later, it was not the most astute thing to say as a potential candidate for Prime Minister. None of this mi