Epstein Secrets

ar attacks occurred around the country. Shooting broke out in mixed Arab-and- Jewish towns and cities: Jaffa on the southern edge of Tel Aviv. Safed, Tiberias and Haifa in the north, and in Jerusalem. I followed all this with curiosity and trepidation through my halting attempts to read Davar le Yeladim, t

ld War Two-vintage halftracks. Our training battalion was based, alongside the country’s main armored brigade, in a huge, hillside army camp outside Beersheva in the Negev. I knew that our fironut — basic training — would be tough. That was the whole point. But we endured a seemingly endless array of inspec

did, it had to be a step up from what lay ahead of me in the Negev. “Yeah. Sure,” I replied. I heard nothing further in the days after I got back to Beersheva. But at the end of the month, I was ordered to report to a small hut in an army base near Tel Aviv. It belonged to Maka Esser, the personnel departme

ier that the best thing would be for her to have the baby in Tiberias, so her parents could be with her. Now, I got a Jeep and raced north. I reached Tiberias the next morning. I opened the door to the hospital room and saw Nava, obviously tired but beaming, cradling our daughter Michal in her arms. I mana

a checkmark next to one of them. While we came from different backgrounds, the gap was narrower than it had been with Nili. Her parental home was in Tiberias. Her parents were from old Sephardi families, with a centuries-long history in Palestine, and were also solid Ben-Gurion Labor supporters. Her father

avy losses. Go see Tzipori.” Motke Tzipori was in charge of organizing the armored units. He sent me to Julis, the training base between Tel Aviv and Beersheva, where tanks from maintenance units around the country were being brought. Once they were reasonably operational, and as more reservists arrived from

ar attacks occurred around the country. Shooting broke out in mixed Arab-and- Jewish towns and cities: Jaffa on the southern edge of Tel Aviv. Safed, Tiberias and Haifa in the north, and in Jerusalem. I followed all this with curiosity and trepidation through my halting attempts to read Davar le Yeladim, t

ld War Two-vintage halftracks. Our training battalion was based, alongside the country’s main armored brigade, in a huge, hillside army camp outside Beersheva in the Negev. I knew that our fironut — basic training — would be tough. That was the whole point. But we endured a seemingly endless array of inspec

did, it had to be a step up from what lay ahead of me in the Negev. “Yeah. Sure,” I replied. I heard nothing further in the days after I got back to Beersheva. But at the end of the month, I was ordered to report to a small hut in an army base near Tel Aviv. It belonged to Maka Esser, the personnel departme

ier that the best thing would be for her to have the baby in Tiberias, so her parents could be with her. Now, I got a Jeep and raced north. I reached Tiberias the next morning. I opened the door to the hospital room and saw Nava, obviously tired but beaming, cradling our daughter Michal in her arms. I manag

a checkmark next to one of them. While we came from different backgrounds, the gap was narrower than it had been with Nili. Her parental home was in Tiberias. Her parents were from old Sephardi families, with a centuries-long history in Palestine, and were also solid Ben-Gurion Labor supporters. Her father

avy losses. Go see Tzipori." Motke Tzipori was in charge of organizing the armored units. He sent me to Julis, the training base between Tel Aviv and Beersheva, where tanks from maintenance units around the country were being brought. Once they were reasonably operational, and as more reservists arrived from