tred, toward us in the village. The people seemed warm, and benignly indifferent to the dozen Jewish toddlers and their metapelet. My own attitude to Wadi Khawaret was of benign curiosity. I did not imagine that within a couple of years we would be on opposite sides of a war. I enjoyed these visits, as I enjoyed

ter of wood-and-tarpaper huts amid a few orange groves and vegetable fields and chicken coops. It was just across the road from an Arab village named Wadi Khawaret, which disappeared, with the establishment of the State of Israel, when I was six years old. As Prime Minister half-a-century later, during my stubb

butz with our metapelet. She would often take us through the orange groves in the afternoon, and sometimes across the main road to the Arab village. Wadi Khawaret consisted of a few dozen concrete homes built back from a main street bordered by shops and storehouses. She would buy us sweets in the little grocer

ter of wood-and-tarpaper huts amid a few orange groves and vegetable fields and chicken coops. It was just across the road from an Arab village named Wadi Khawaret, which disappeared, with the establishment of the State of Israel, when I was six years old. As Prime Minister half-a-century later, during my stubb