the crossfire. He reached the plane and hoisted the man to the medics waiting at the door. Then he pulled himself aboard. Doctors were already working on other casualities.
As Jason was helping settle the old man on a mattress, he heard a soldier holding a walkie-talkie blurt out an anguished, “Oh no!”
“What’s the matter?” he shouted.
“It’s Yoni-Yoni’s been hit!”
Jason was electrified. He grabbed a rifle, rushed to the door of the plane, leapt onto the tarmac, and began to run back toward the terminal. In the distance he could see them lifting Yoni onto a stretcher. A hail of bullets was still coming from the control tower.
As soon as he was in range, he stopped and began to return their fire. His only thought was that whoever had shot Yoni had to pay for it.
From a distance he heard Zvi’s voice calling- urgently.
“Gilbert, everyone’s on board, we’re moving out!”
Heedless, Jason continued shooting. A figure stumbled from the tower. He had hit one of the snipers.
Zvi shouted again, “Gilbert, get back here. That’s an order!”
Still, Jason kept firing in wild anger until his ammunition was exhausted. The roar of the first Hercules taking off suddenly brought him to his senses. He hurled his rifle to the ground, turned, and began to sprint toward the nearest aircraft.
It was then that the bullet struck him, ripping through his right shoulder blade and into his chest.
He staggered but refused to fall. He would not let his fellow soldiers risk their lives to rescue him. He reached the door of the plane and they pulled him in. When one of the commandos gasped at the sight of his chest, he knew that he was hurt badly.
But he still didn’t feel anything.
As the doctor slashed his shirt, he heard the plane door slam and heard somebody call out, “We’ve done it. We’re going home.”
Jason looked at the doctor, whose face was ashen.
“Is it true?” he asked. “Did we really pull it off?”
“Relax,
The plane taxied faster and in another moment was off Ugandan territory. Mission accomplished.
Jason refused to be silent. He sensed that he had very little time and he still had questions to ask. And things to say.
“Is Yoni dead?” he asked.
The doctor nodded.
“Shit. He was the best of us. The bravest guy I ever knew.”
“That’s why he would have thought it was worth it,
“Yeah.” Jason smiled, dizzy from loss of blood. “There are no shutouts in war, huh?”
“Jason, don’t tire yourself.”
“Don’t kid me, Zvi. I’ll have plenty of time to rest.” He was speaking slower and slower. “I just want… to be sure that Eva knows that I’m sorry I had to do this to her. and the boys. Tell them I love them, Zvi….”
His commanding officer was unable to speak. He simply nodded his head.
“And tell them one more thing.” Jason gasped. “Say I’ve found peace. I’ve finally… found peace.”
His head lolled to one side. The doctor placed a hand on Jason’s carotid-artery. He could not find a pulse.
“He was a very brave soldier,” Zvi said softly. “Some of the boys said he threw back a live grenade. He still was quick as an athlete on his feet —”
Zvi’s voice broke. He turned away and walked to the back of the plane.
They flew on in triumph. And in sorrow.
Jason Gilbert, Sr., rose as usual at six o’clock on the morning of July 4th and took a quick dip in the pool. He then put on his robe and returned to the house to shave and prepare for the guests who would be coming to their annual Independence Day barbecue.
He sat down in his dressing room and turned on his television to watch the news. There were already reports of the incredible Israeli commando raid.
The commentator was saying that it was an exploit that would go down in military history. Not only because of the distance involved, but because of the brilliant planning that had saved all but one of the hostages at the cost of only two soldiers’ lives.
Mr. Gilbert smiled. Incredible, he thought. Jason was right. Israel will do anything to protect its own. He must be very proud this morning.
There was a live interview with Chaim Herzog, the Israeli ambassador to the UN. He explained the wider meaning of what his country had done.
“There is an alternative to surrendering to terrorism and blackmail. This is a common enemy to all civilized countries. For these people obey no human decencies. We are proud. Not only because we saved over a hundred innocent people- but because of the significance of our act for the cause of human freedom.”
“Hear, hear,” murmured Jason Gilbert, Sr., and went in to shave.
At about eleven o’clock his friends began to arrive. At twelve-thirty, when he was putting the first hamburgers onto the big outdoor grill, Jenny, the housekeeper, shouted that he had a long-distance call.
Damn, he thought. Doesn’t my staff even take July Fourth off?
He picked up the phone in the kitchen amid the clutter of plates and glasses, intending to make short work of the employee who was disturbing his holiday.
As soon as he heard Eva’s voice, he knew. After listening quietly for a few minutes, he promised to call her back later in the day, and then hung up.
The ashen look on his face startled everyone.
“What’s the matter, darling?” his wife asked.
He took her aside and whispered. She was too stunned at first to cry. Then he took a deep breath, determined not to break down until he could convey what had happened. He called for everyone’s attention.
“I suppose by now you’ve all heard about the Israeli rescue at Entebbe.”
There were expressions of admiration among his guests.
“Those men did what no other country in the world would even attempt. And they did it because they were alone. That can make people very brave. I’m especially proud…” he continued with great difficulty, “because Jason was one of those soldiers…”
His friends began to murmur.
“…and one of those who were killed.”
ANDREW ELIOT’S DIARY
July 5, 1976
