Death Had Two Sons Page 8

  ‘Why don’t you find yourself a girl?’ Yoram teased him often. ‘Rina has a lot of friends, we could all go out then.’

  ‘And offer her nights of tense waiting? Not yet.’

  He never told them about Nechama. Nechama was not to be talked about and each of the men who knew her held the knowledge close to his own heart, it was understood that she was not to be discussed or mentioned. Each of a certain number of fighters had Nechama, alone, to himself, in a special way, not caring what and how she gave to others. That is why nobody told Daniel about Nechama, and she found him in the way she found the others. A moment of extreme fatigue at the end of a battle and insufficient sleep, a walk. She knew his name and she walked beside him suggesting they should have coffee at her place. He agreed, too tired to be either curious or cautious. She led the way to a second-floor flat over-crowded with furniture, pillows, stuffed animals and flowers.

  ‘You know my name,’ he said rather than asked.

  ‘Yes. Black and White used to talk about you.’

  He sank into a chair and watched her prepare the coffee on a small kerosene lamp. She was in her thirties and handsome if not beautiful. Her skin was white and her hair black and long. She had green eyes and a large mouth and a mole on her chin. She took off her high-heeled shoes and he noticed how short she was.

  ‘Don’t you want to ask me what my name is?’ she said. ‘Nechama. The coffee will be ready in a few moments.’

  His eyes felt heavy and his body comfortably relaxed and last night’s battle sounds were beginning to fade away.

  ‘Was Gideon badly wounded last night?’ she asked.

  ‘His arm,’ he said.

  He did not then, and never afterwards, ask her how she knew the names of the boys or their actions. Last night’s was a secret raid but he accepted her knowledge of it and knew it to be safe. He sipped from the coffee cup and she massaged his back gently taking off his shirt.

  ‘Come and lie down,’ she said and he followed her to the bedroom. She undressed and he half-watched her do so, rather surprised at how fast all her clothes came off. She cuddled close to him and undressed him as if he were a baby.

  ‘I’m exhausted,’ he said. ‘I’ve never been with a woman.’

  ‘I know,’ she smiled as her hand, soft, like tepid water, counted his ribs and pulled him to her. He made love to her, perspiring and clumsy, and she stroked his wet hair and whispered,

  ‘Sleep now.’

  When he woke up he was alone in the bed. There was nothing strange about his being there, he did not feel alone, the room looked familiar and its smell was of dying roses. She was fully dressed, her high heels elevating her again and her mouth smeared with fresh lipstick.

  ‘Another coffee,’ she said, and walked out as he was dressing.

  It was all very simple and very silent. He did not wonder about the unsaid or feel like exploring more.

  ‘Do you have parents?’ she asked.

  ‘A father in Poland. I haven’t seen him since the war. We correspond.’

  When he mentioned Kalinsky he remembered that he had received and not answered three letters. He would write that night he decided.

  ‘You’re from a Kibbutz, aren’t you?’

  ‘Yes. Gilad.’

  ‘You must know Yoram then,’ she said.

  ‘He’s my closest friend.’

  She asked him not to mention having met her to anybody, and he felt sure he wouldn’t have done anyway and when he asked, ‘May I come again?’ he knew it was unnecessary to ask. When he left he took a mental note of the house and the street and wondered why he had not kissed her.

  Nechama was not a prostitute. She was a woman who had lost her great love. He was a paratrooper and since his death she was ‘their woman’. At times she worked as a waitress, a guide, a barmaid, but she followed the unit and they knew she was there and every night someone would come, for a minute or an hour or the whole night. When she was not alone she simply did not open the door, and if two friends met in the street in front of the house no questions were asked or cracks exchanged. Some talked to her about the dead friends she knew, some sat in silence or fell asleep, some laughed with her or made love or had a bath and a meal. She carried on her flesh the touch of fingers which were now feeding worms and she was the cleanest of women. To be with her meant to be with others who had died, with a spirit of destiny, of acceptance. For her, they were all fragments of the man she loved and his image was evoked every night anew, always, there with her in the laughter of Gideon or the dimples of Yoram, the shyness of Daniel or the fear, the anxiety, the premonitions, the tenderness and concern of the others.

  The next raid was scheduled for a Saturday night and all leaves were cancelled. Daniel strolled along the lazy afternoon street and climbed the stairs. She opened the door and closed the shutters and he said, ‘I forgot to kiss you last time.’

  He kissed her and made love to her and she said, ‘You are tired, take care tonight.’

  Did she smell battles, he wondered, or approaching death? Did she sit there wondering who would not return? Was his effort to conceal the edginess he always felt before a raid betraying him?

  He felt like never moving, lying there on his back. Her black hair wove a pattern on the pillow and her red mouth was slightly open. A knock was heard on the door. He jerked, clutching his battle-dress. She beckoned to him to return to bed and lay there silent. Another knock, footsteps descending the stairs and the echo of heavy boots on the asphalt road. For a brief moment he felt guilty. Then he wondered who the boy was and looking at his watch he realized it was time to leave. She kissed him with anxiety in her eyes. To say to Nechama, ‘I hope to see you again,’ was not a figure of speech. It meant, ‘I hope to survive this one too, I hope to be alive tomorrow.’ When he walked up the road he heard footsteps behind him, the heavy boots again, and he never turned to look who it was seeking a moment of reassurance in the lap of a woman who lived with death. The kind of death they knew.

  Daniel never mentioned Nechama and he never thought of other women either. A few girls tried to get close to him, but gave up when he seemed to remain indifferent. He was used to Rina, but on the whole the sight of girls in uniform did not please him. He never gave a thought to Nechama when fighting, but on the way to the frontier, when crowded in jeeps or command cars, the boys grew silent as if contemplating their chances, her figure floated among them like a cold caress. And with dawn’s chill on the way back, many of them carried her image along the straight, monotonous road. Daniel would examine their faces, many were asleep or pretending to be, and reflected in their eyes was Nechama, the lover, the comforter, the woman, the witch, a good luck charm, the evil eye. He would then close his eyes too, and sail away to the stale roses and white sheets.

  Yoram left the army and returned to Gilad, returning south for reserve service often enough, and Rina was transferred to the Jerusalem Command where she enrolled in the University and began to study Archaeology. Daniel spent a year in courses and was a company commander at twenty and Kalinsky continued to write letters, seldom answered. The distance grew between Poland and Daniel. It was immense when he was in Gilad and now the smell of smoke and dynamite and the yellow stretches of the desert enlarged it. He wrote his father not to worry, he was doing well and had a safe job in the army. With the consent of the Kibbutz he decided to prolong his service, and he made it to Gilad only on week-ends to drink thirstily the greens and the browns and the laughter of children swimming in the river. Now Yoram waited for him and Daniel enjoyed recounting stories. They resumed their long afternoon walks, but Yoram’s nights belonged to Rina.

  Kalinsky wrote that business was bad and he had applied for an exit visa. ‘It is a question of time and patience now that the decision has been taken,’ he wrote. ‘Once we get our visas we shall pack and leave and we can reunite at last my son.’ ‘Perhaps,’ he added, ‘we could start some business together in one of the new cities where Miriam can attend high-school.’ Daniel dism
issed the thought as unreal and automatically answered to say how happy he would be when they were able to come.

  There were rumours of an approaching war in the air and the soldiers were restless. The general mobilization included Yoram, and Daniel was given twelve-hour leave. In Gilad there was talk of a large-scale attack on Jordan, and Rina stayed the night.

  ‘I shall come along too,’ she declared. ‘There is nothing to do in the unit I am with’

  She was nervous and irritable and when the men prepared to leave there were tears in her eyes. Daniel excused himself and walked out of the room pretending he had forgotten something and when he returned Rina was gone and Yoram was sitting in the car serious and pensive.

  ‘Anything wrong?’

  ‘No, she thinks we’re not capable of taking care of ourselves. That’s all. She said to tell you to take care.’

  They drove to Tel-Aviv and to the Southern Command where they had to part. Daniel had to join his company and Yoram was with another.

  ‘Do you know what it’s all about?’

  ‘Not really, I suppose we’ll jump, tonight, somewhere, and if you’re attached to the artillery we may meet on the ground. I’ll look for you anyway.’

  ‘We may meet before, in Beer-Sheba. If there’s a delay I’ll be there, tonight, at Morris’s.’

  ‘Or after the battle, on the bridge, as usual.’

  They shook hands and Daniel drove off, turning to look at Yoram who was wearing an old battle-dress and carrying a small haversack. The last few years had left a mark on Yoram’s face. He had the same smiling eyes, but in the corners was a flicker of seriousness, a sense of responsibility and tenderness. They were going to get married in the spring, Rina would work as an archaeologist in the North and Yoram would continue working in the fish ponds of Gilad. ‘Many children, five or six perhaps,’ they said.

  It was late fall, a low gray ceiling of sky, static and metallic. There was no movement in the air and the first flowers of autumn dotted the fields pink and yellow. Daniel made it to his camp on time and the officers’ dining room returned him to the atmosphere of excitement, guesses, preparations.

  The Sinai was the target. He had twenty-four hours to prepare his unit and he felt relieved. The Sinai. He had crossed the frontier before, many times, but somehow it felt different. He was amused at the thought of sending his father photographs of his son near Mount Sinai. The commotion in the barracks was contagious. During the last few weeks, the soldiers were held back, in spite of steady infiltration from Egypt which resulted in the deaths of women and children and loss of property. Eve of battle. Some were writing letters, cracking jokes to release tension, a song in a corner, a check-up of the weapons and equipment, guesses, plans. Daniel made sure all was in order and took the road to Beer-Sheba wondering whether Yoram would be there. At dawn they had to board the planes. When the lights of his jeep spilled into the main street it was close to midnight. The streets were empty but the restaurant crowded and Yoram wasn’t there. Daniel had a steak and walked to Nechama’s street. It was a cold night and he thought of her small gas stove and coffee. There was no light in the window but he went up and knocked on the door. She let him in, into the dark room and embraced him. Suddenly she was not the woman he knew. She was a frightened girl seeking protection and he stroked her hair and bare arms.

  ‘What is it? Why don’t we put on some lights?’

  ‘Please, no, it’s better this way.’

  He touched her face and his fingertips felt the warm wetness of tears. He asked no more. They sat in the dark, she was leaning against him counting and recounting his long fingers.

  ‘Did you ever play the piano?’

  ‘No. My brother did, Shmuel.’

  ‘Where is he now?’

  ‘I think he was killed in the war. The world war.’

  ‘Yes, I keep forgetting you are from Poland,’ she said. ‘Daniel,’ she whispered softly, ‘could we lie in bed without making love? Just hold me in your arms, and leave when you have to.’

  ‘You don’t want to tell me why you’re crying?’

  She did not answer and began to undress in the dark.

  It was a windy night and whirlpools of sand hit the pavement and the walls like blind bats. She relaxed in his arms and when he thought she was asleep he gently covered her and dressed to go. When the guard in camp saluted him and he drove to his room he noticed he had forgotten his watch at Nechama’s. Something to go back for, he thought, and made the best of three hours of sleep left him.

  When Yoram went to see Nechama there was a light in her window. He was in a good mood and he knocked on the door announcing himself. It was past three in the morning, but Nechama was all dressed up as if ready to go out. She was not surprised to see him and, unable to resist the laughter in his eyes, asked him in smiling.

  ‘I think I’ll never see you again. I’m getting married soon and unless you come up North there isn’t much chance of my coming by.’

  ‘Unless there are more wars,’ she laughed.

  ‘I’m not a baby any more. I’ve had my share of dust. I am going to father half a dozen babies, lose my hair slowly, develop a belly and feed fish.’

  ‘Not a bad life. Are you off tonight?’

  ‘Tomorrow.’

  He noticed Daniel’s watch and took hold of it.

  ‘Daniel?’ he asked.

  She nodded.

  ‘May I keep it? I’ll see him somewhere one of these days, he’ll need it and we’re friendly enough not to ask too many questions.’

  She shrugged and he put the watch on his wrist.

  ‘You lose the touch,’ he said, ‘or so it seems, and I feel strange in uniform now. It seems less important, less meaningful and I know the young ones are better than I could ever be.’

  ‘You’ve had your share.’

  ‘I suppose it’s just talk. Once I’m at it again I’ll feel at home, only that none of us are real soldiers, we need a reason to fight, a motivation and an urge.’

  ‘Don’t you have it?’

  ‘Of course, but with the years the reasons not to fight accumulate too. Now it’s Rina. Later – the children, the farm. It started when I felt responsible for Daniel, before he found his father.’

  ‘Of all the boys I know,’ she said, ‘he resembles most the one I lost.’

  ‘You lost many, Nechama.’

  ‘I lost one. The others were a repetition of the same pain.’

  ‘Well, perhaps this is a last battle for all of us.’

  ‘Would you mind terribly if I ask you to leave?’ she asked.

  ‘Of course not. I just came to say good-bye in case I go straight to Gilad when this one is over. There’s a redhead waiting for me and she’s a worrying type!’

  He kissed her forehead and left.

  Chapter Six

  The sound of propellers was like the overture to an opera, and the night landscape framed in the opening of the Nord aircraft was familiar. Daniel was still sleepy but the morning chill and the tight parachute straps helped to wake him completely. The lights underneath disappeared as they crossed the border and he checked his personal equipment for maps, compass, some tinned food and first-aid kit. The desert below was lunar and dead and the jokes in the aircraft had to do with Moses’ exodus, forty years in the desert and the golden calf. Peaks of mountains could be discerned and an occasional light flickered with enmity. They timed the trip and were descending now to the marked area. Warning light, last few words and the brief silence before the actual jump, a blast of cold wind carried him sideways and tossed him around. For a short moment he felt he was going upwards, towards the stars and the Milky Way, and he straightened himself as the parachute spread and stabilized him. His eyes were accustomed to the darkness and the pale gray of dawn could be seen painting the horizon with a thin brush. Down below the night was still black and sheltering and when he approached the ground he could see a few of the boys folding their parachutes. He was ready in a few moments and, in spite of an h
our of confusion, by dawn the company was well camouflaged between two hills and guarding the hilltops as well. There was nothing to do for a while but wait for orders. Infantry and artillery columns were to join them from the East and the North and they were not to move in the area unless an enemy force revealed itself to be inferior in numbers. He dozed off, watching a lizard on a rock, and occasionally sipped some tinned orange juice – what they called ‘heart-burn juice’.

  When finally the company was sent to patrol the canyon, pandemonium broke out. Daniel and his men were ordered to follow in to rescue them and blood touched blood. Once again he was not thinking, once again jealous hatred was evoked by the sight of the dead and automatically he released hand grenades into the caves and followed in with the machine-gun’s scathing fire. He was scratched in his arm and thigh and lost some blood but all that mattered were the black jaws of the enemy-held caves dug into the steep slopes and the badly injured friends on the hillside, losing their holds and rolling down into the valley like useless bundles. The moaning of the wounded hurt him physically and when, with a sudden deafening silence, the battle was over, he carried someone a long way away before he realized he was burdened with an enemy soldier. Blood was spilling from an enormous wound, and Daniel knew he was not going to last the long descent. He propped his head against a rock, disarmed him and hurried back to join the others.

  There was no time to share the distress of having paid too dear a price for a victory or the counting of the dead and wounded. Orders were received and he was to take off with a small platoon to meet an approaching column and direct them back to the canyon. When he returned with the platoon after completing his mission he saw the Northern column advancing, and in one of the first armed trucks Yoram’s round face could be seen. They embraced and Yoram knew better than to ask questions. Daniel’s face was gray and fallen and they drove silently to the small camp in the hills.