I did the night milking of the sheep as my shift for the following day.
After I had finished, it was off to the truck that would take us and the Swiss volunteers on a trip to Masada. It was one of the perks they received for coming to our kibbutz.
The truck set out before dawn. On the way we joked and flashed our Uzis to impress them.
Then it was rushing up the difficult side of Masada. We pushed and pulled them, laughing and showing off.
Not much to see at the top except old stones. So we all ran down to the truck.
Last one down is a wimp, and I can assure you it was not one of us.
Next stop, the springs of Ein Gedi and finally the Dead Sea, our camping spot for the night.
After a sober meal we built a bonfire and sat round it. Gidon strummed on his guitar and the Swiss and the Jews sang gospels and folk songs together in broken English.
The poor dears were completely exhausted and turned in early to sleep under the stars.
They could dream peacefully about their cheese fondues and clocks, because we guarded them.
Not all of us at the same time, but one after another. Even we needed some sleep.
Next morning, after breakfast everybody piled into the truck and we went back to the kibbutz.
I was on time to do the afternoon shift for that day. I had not missed a day’s work.
Why did we do it?
Why? Because that is what tough guys do.