The senior military attaché, Army Colonel Robert D. Hopkins Jr., came out from behind his desk and stood rather stiffly at “parade rest” in his office doorway as the ambassador dropped us off—and hurried away in response to a beep on her pager. An attractive young woman with long brown hair looked up from her typing and smiled as Harry and I walked in. Already I like Tel Aviv.
We could see Colonel Hopkins in the doorway to his office and an air force colonel, a big black guy, standing in reception area talking to him with his back to us. They both turned and looked at us with a great deal of interest as we entered the reception area and gave our names and ranks to the pretty typist. The air force colonel immediately came over and held out his hand.
“Hi, I’m Robbie Roosevelt, the Air Force Attaché hereabouts. Welcome to the embassy and Israel.”
“Hello Colonel, I’m Dick Evans and this here is Harry Duffy.”
We shook hands and smiled at each other. Colonel Hopkins, however, gave us a disgusted look and started walking back into his office. Then he heaved a deep theatrical sigh, looked back over his shoulder and shook his head in disgust, and gestured rather impolitely with a crooked finger for us to come in.
“You two look disgraceful,” Hopkins thundered over his shoulder, as the two of us and Colonel Robinson followed him into his office and watched him walk around his desk and settle into the chair behind it. Nice office. I could see some kids kicking a soccer ball in the courtyard below.
“You should have reported in immediately and you are supposed to be wearing your Class A uniforms and have proper shaves and haircuts. We have to set an example here. Now start again and report in properly.” Uh oh, an asshole.
I jump to rigid attention. “Evans, Major Richard D. Making my manners, sir. Not reporting in.” I emphasized the ’not.’
Harry followed my lead. “Duffy, Chief Warrant Officer Harold O. Making my manners, sir. Not reporting in.”
“All United States military personnel assigned to Israel are under the command of this office,” the colonel thundered. “Now go get yourselves cleaned up and in proper uniforms.”
“Sir, with all due respect, we are not assigned to Israel and we are not in your chain of command. We are assigned to the 4022 Surplus Disposal Detachment and are TDY to …”
“We’ll see about that. And you, mister whatever your name is, you will get a haircut and shave immediately.”
“The name’s Duffy. And with all due respect, sir, no I won’t. I have a religious exemption from my detachment commander.”
I’m beginning to seriously dislike this pompous ass and his efforts to intimidate us. It’s too bad the Boss left for the States without speaking to him.
“Perhaps you’d like to speak with our detachment commander, sir,” I suggested rather stiffly. His name is Shelton. I’m sure he’d like to know of your concerns. I can give you his number.”
Two minutes later and Harry and I were still standing rigidly at attention as the colonel’s cute little receptionist put his call through to Riems. The air force colonel was standing against the wall looking amused and trying his best to hide it.
I bet the air force colonel knows who we came in with. Wonder why he didn’t give Hopkins a head’s up? Probably doesn’t like the pompous ass.
“This is Colonel Robert D. Hopkins calling from the American Embassy in Israel. Connect me to the detachment commander. I believe his name is Shelton.”
“Shelton? This is Colonel Hopkins, the senior military attaché of the American Embassy in Tel Aviv. I have two of your officers in my office, a Major Evans and a Chief Warrant Officer Duffy. They are a disgrace to the army and insubordinate and something must be done about it.”
“They are wearing inappropriate uniforms and are of slovenly appearance.”
“They are wearing un-pressed fatigues instead of the Class A uniform officers are supposed to wear in the embassy and they are unshaven and need proper haircuts……yes you may speak to them.”
He hands me the phone with a sneer.
“Yes sir. Israel. At the embassy. We came here with the boss. He’s setting up an office and leaving us here on temporary duty.”
“Yes sir, that’s it exactly… Yes sir, we will ignore the colonel. Here he is.”
I handed the phone back to a now furious colonel in a state of full military outrage.
“What do you mean ’ignore him?’ I’ll have you.” … “What did you say?” … “Who?” … “oh” … “oh” … “Yes sir, there has been a misunderstanding. Yes sir, I will rethink my attitude.” … “Yes sir.” … “I will, General. I will.” … “No sir, I will not.” … “Thank you sir.”
The now visibly red faced and shaken colonel looked like he was about to go into cardiac arrest. “It seems there has been a misunderstanding. I have been ordered to provide you with whatever assistance you require and to ask no questions.”
Harry and I both saluted smartly and I smiled at the air force colonel as we did about faces and marched towards the door. He repressed a smile as he nodded back. The receptionist beamed a really big smile and nodded shyly when I waved a friendly farewell as we went out the door.
“Do you think I could ask Colonel Hopkins for his receptionist’s phone number?” I asked Harry as we headed for the elevator. “We could double date?”
******
Dewey Adams was friendly and helpful, the exact opposite of the embassy’s self-important army attaché. We sat around the little table in his office while he made a few notes in a little spiral notebook. Dewey’s going to add us to the embassy’s military payroll list and told us he’d already looked into the available housing.
“We’re totally out of embassy accommodations but we have a two bedroom apartment you can share if you want. The alternative is for the embassy to rent a couple of small one-bedroom furnished apartments for you in a large complex about a mile south of here. What would be best, I suppose depends on how long you have to stay here and how much privacy you want.”
Harry and I looked at each other. I know exactly what he’s thinking.
“Living in the same apartment won’t cut it. Harry is a celibate vegetarian who does yoga chants to drive away his terrible lust,” I told Dewey with a big smile.
Dewy grinned as Harry nodded his head and intoned “Omm .. Omm.”
“Now about transportation. We better get you a couple of cars. I assume civilian plates might be best. Or maybe one or both should have diplomatic plates. What do you think?”
“I think we should take you out for lunch and pick your brain about where we should set up our office and how we should staff it.”
****** General Christopher Roberts
Before I left for the airbase with Yoram, I visited the embassy’s secure communications center to contact my office and pick up any waiting messages. I also called the office of Israel’s security advisor and informed General Stavri of my decision to temporarily open an unofficial office of military observers and leave Evans and Duffy to staff it. Might as well be totally open about it. They’ll find out soon enough.
“And if it’s okay with you, General, I’d like to leave a couple of my aides, Major Evans and Mister Duffy, in Israel for a month or two as my personal observers and assistants—to run errands for me and help me get a feel for the current condition of the Israeli army and its capabilities and needs. They’ll probably have a temporary office in the embassy and be reachable via the embassy switchboard."
"What I’d really like Evans and Duffy to do, if it’s agreeable with you and the Prime Minister, of course, is spend time in the field observing how your army trains. I’ve authorized them to hire a couple of bilingual temporary employees, preferably English-speaking retired Israeli officers, to help them find their way around.”
“Thank you. I enjoyed meeting you too and I would appreciate any assistance you might provide to my men. Also, if you would, please issue them any credentials you think might be appropriate.”
Just as I c
ame out of the secure bubble of the communications center I was handed several messages from Peter Ferrelli. They’d come in response to my earlier inquiry. Two of them are important and both are from the CIA. The CIA now thinks it possible, but is still not absolutely certain, it was the Iraqis who sent the suicide squad pretending to be Iranians and the Israelis know it. It seems Iran’s war with the Sunnis and Kurds in Iraq and Syria Yemen has been heating up and the Iraqi’s might be trying to generate a reaction from Israel against Iran. Attacking Israel in order to hurt Iran sounds pretty farfetched. Or is it?
Peter’s second message was even more alarming. Iran is ignoring its 2015 agreement that ended the West’s economic boycott. It is actively moving its efforts to obtain nuclear weapons forward by buying equipment and technical assistance from both North Korea and Pakistan. Syria and Iraq are also buying assistance from North Korea and Pakistan.
I immediately walked back into the communications center and queried the CIA and NSA messages, with a copy to Peter. “Are any of those countries acting in concert in regard to nuclear matters? What are the Saudis doing in regards to nuclear matters?” I think I better temporarily delay my departure to Cairo in order to share the information about Pakistan and North Korea with the Israelis. I’m more than a little curious as to how they see the situation – and if they already know about Pakistan and North Korea.
Except for making a constant stream of phone calls on his cell phone, Yoram waited patiently for me for more than an hour in a reception room off the embassy lobby. He said something into his phone and stood up as I entered the lobby.
“I’m going back to the States in a couple of hours. But first I need to stop at the defense ministry. I need five minutes with the defense minister if he’s available or one of his senior assistants if he is not. Can you arrange it for me?”
Hell, I wish I’d known about Pakistan and North Korea before I called the defense minister about my guys sticking around for a while. Oh well.
****** Dick Evans
Harry and I had an early lunch with Dewey at a little café about two blocks away from the embassy. It’s an old fashioned kind of place with red and white checkered plastic table covers, menus in half a dozen languages, and pictures of the food. We sat under an awning at one of the outside tables in front of the place. People speaking various languages were lined up and waiting for tables by the time we left.
Dewey’s an interesting guy, a staunch supporter of Israel and obviously religious since he quietly mumbled a prayer under his breath before he started eating. I don’t know why but Harry and I were both a little surprised when he smiled shyly after his little prayer and said, “Yeah, I’m a Christian. Didn’t really know it until I got here.” Then he proudly showed us pictures of his wife, Annie, and their three kids. At Dewey’s suggestion we had eggplant salad and something called potato bourekas for lunch. Delicious.
Dewey and Annie have been here for almost five years and it sounded as if they would like to stay forever. Annie teaches first graders at an English language school and loves her job and living here. They met when they were assigned seats next to each other in a history class at the University of Georgia. Well, that explains his southern accent.
Dewey merely nodded and said “know them both” when Harry mentioned we’d met the two military attachés. Of course. He’s a diplomat who knows when to keep his mouth shut.
Dewey told us he thinks the current peace agreement between Israel and Egypt is a good thing but he is not a fan, he said, of our constant pressure on Israel to pull back from the West Bank and the joint security zone it recently reestablished along the border with Gaza.
“Nothing will satisfy the Islamist crazies except the destruction of Israel. Pulling back from its security zone in Gaza and the West Bank are the only cards the Israelis have to play in order to get a comprehensive peace agreement. They’re almost certainly not enough to generate an agreement but it would be real stupid of Israel to discard them without getting something significant in return.” Hey. Sounds like Dewey’s a poker player; maybe we can get a game up.
Then we got down to business. As soon as he got back to the embassy Dewey said he would try to locate a couple of short term furnished apartments and cars the embassy can lease for us on a month to month basis. “There is a small single room office on the third floor of the embassy you can use as an office. It’s right next to the rest rooms.” That’s great. Maybe I can ambush the attachés’ secretary.
Dewey is also going to issue us diplomatic passports. According to Dewey, they can be real helpful if someone tries to give us a hard time.
Our big hassle, according to Dewey, will be finding the right people to help us. The embassy has a bunch of resumes of local people who have contacted the embassy in the past looking for work. He’ll have someone go through them immediately.
“They’ve got to be totally fluent in both Hebrew and English,” I reminded him, “and they need to know their way around Israel and the military. The boss mentioned something about maybe using joint passport holders or retired Israeli officers too old to be called back to active duty.”
“Yeah,” said Dewey, “that might be the best way to go. I get the impression you two are in a big hurry, so as soon as we get back to the embassy I’ll call around about apartments. The ones I’m thinking of are only about ten blocks away. If there are any still available you guys can walk or taxi over to look at them. While you’re doing that I’ll have Janet, she’s my assistant, set up some appointments for you later this afternoon. Janet’s a real nice lady. You’ll like her.”
A couple of hours later we walked over to see the apartments. They were okay though the kitchens were about as small as I’ve ever seen. “Don’t sweat it,” Harry commented with a dismissive shake of his head. “We sure as hell won’t be cooking.”
Then we were smart enough to return to the embassy in an air conditioned taxi because it seemed to be even warmer outside than when we walked over to look at the apartments.
Our sunglasses are not going to be enough even if we wear civilian clothes. We need to get some baseball caps or something.
*****
Things are coming together. While we were off looking at the apartments Dewey took a message for us from someone at the Defense Ministry: Oren is going to stay with us as our escort officer with Joel as his driver. That’s good news—but we’ll still need a car in case Oren and Joel get called away.
That afternoon a really nice older Israeli lady with slightly bluish hair, Noya Lenor, a recently retired high school English teacher of a certain age, came in for an interview. We hired her on the spot. She’ll be our receptionist and general helper. She reminds me of my Aunt Mildred
Mrs. Lenor is multilingual and has been working part-time for the past several years as a translator for visiting European and American businessmen. According to her resume, her husband passed away years ago. Dewey says she’s anxious to work to supplement her small retirement income so she can help her recently divorced daughter and her two little grandchildren.
By lunch time we had interviewed and signed up two retired English-speaking Israeli officers—both long ago immigrants—one from South Africa originally and one from Australia. The Australian, Simon Sharett, recently retired out of the Israeli reserves as an infantry major and has two daughters living in the States; the other, Solomon Lamdan, retired out of the reserves as the sergeant major of a tank battalion. Both are widowers and both live alone in Tel Aviv and are available around the clock.
Both of the men have extensive military experience both in Israel and before they emigrated: Simon in Viet Nam and Solly in Rhodesia. When they got to Israel they joined the army as every Israeli does, except the Arabs and the deadbeats claiming to be ultra-religious in order to avoid national service and work, and fought again as reservists every time the reserves were called. They both recently retired from their civilian jobs. Si worked in a government office as a building inspector until he retired about six months
ago; Solly worked for the post office and still owns a small café in an office building which is run by his daughter and son-in-law.
I wonder which of our three new assistants works for Israeli intelligence or if they all do. The boss said it was inevitable and not to worry about it or even bother trying to keep anything from them.
On paper all the Israelis on our little team sound like they’ve been around the block a few times and can help us find our way around Israel and its army. That’s good because the boss wants us to stay here for a while and try to find out how ready the Israeli army is for another war.
I don’t really know much about Israel’s current situation. At least I didn’t until the boss told us what he wanted to know and why. Apparently Israel had quite a scare when the Egyptians and Syrians suddenly attacked during the Yom Kippur holidays many years ago. It seems the Israelis were so surprised at their initial setbacks that several of their top leaders lost their nerve and wanted to ask the Egyptians for terms.
Supposedly the Israeli military and intelligence organizations were totally reorganized and significantly improved their training and war-fighting ability after a fiasco in Lebanon a few years back. But how good are they today? And what else is going on?
Chapter Five
Grass and weeds are growing up through the cracks in the old concrete taxiway and the propellers of the ancient Fokker F-27 airliner were kicking up a cloud of dust as it taxied slowly up to the dilapidated and abandoned-looking hangar on the deserted Somalian air field. The old hangar was a mess and extremely warm under the relentless sun. Its glass windows were obviously broken out long ago and little rays of sunlight shine in through various holes in its roof. Indecipherable graffiti covered its walls both inside and out and a faded and unreadable sign over the hangar door was obviously painted over long ago. There are numerous cracks in the sand covered concrete apron in front of the hangar.
Israel's Next War Page 5
