We had already conquered Jabaleah and were in sight of what I believed to be Gaza University. We had arrived at the border of Gaza City itself. We left the six-story apartment building and set up briefly in one of the large mansions we had conquered a few days previously. The mansion had likewise been turned into an IDF field hospital for our battalion.
If anybody benefited from the war in Gaza it was definitely their animals. After all the abandonment, bombardment, as well as troop movements (without always closing the doors and gates behind us) practically all Palestinian livestock roamed happily and freely. It was a sight to behold, beautiful Arabian stallions munching contentedly on grass next to Israeli tanks. Cows waddled by and herds of sheep danced down the alleys.
Night fell and we prepared to move. Once again, however, the mission was postponed. Again, I am unsure of the reason. They don't tell me such things. But they did tell one thing...
Delilah and her suicide bomber squad were back.
I went on a midnight patrol with Sgt. Obama to secure the perimeter. We were playing cat and mouse with suicide bombers. We moved swiftly and silently from point to point, keeping a constant eye watching through night vision gun scopes and goggles. We searched for an hour and found nothing. We returned to the residence.
About an hour later Comrade heard a scuffling just outside the front door of the house and saw a black figure dart past the window. He was on watch at the time at a window about a meter away from the door. He improved his position and called out to the figure.
"Mi zeh?!" he shouted first in Hebrew, to be sure that he didn't shoot one of our own soldiers. Just the night before the reservists had accidentally opened fire on the colonel's entourage and wounded several soldiers due to poor communication and a lack of precaution.
There was no answer.
Comrade leveled his gun and continued scanning through the night vision scope, attempting to locate his target.
"Wakif! Wakif!" He called in Arabic with a thick Russian accent. "Wakif," is an Arabic term for "Stop" and the beginning of a phrase we use in the IDF that means "Stop! Surrender and put up your hands!" Any soldier that hears "Wakif" knows he better make sure the other soldier is aware of his true identity because he is probably just seconds away from getting shot.
And then, as if to answer his Arabic command, Comrade heard the unmistakable "B-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-h!" of a large, lost, black sheep.
Delilah never showed. At least, I never saw her. But a few more false alarms like this and she wouldn't even need to bother coming to the house to blow herself up.
