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.
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