were still behind schedule. Dawn was 25 minutes away. I radioed the helicopter pilot with a new pickup point, closer to where we’d installed the equipment though still far enough, I hoped, to avoid giving away what we’d done. Still, we barely made it. The sun was rising as the chopper began weaving among the dunes and wadis on the flight back to Israel. Looking back, we could see flames leaping up from the oil pipeline in the dim, dawn light. There could be no doubt the prize was worth it. By the time we returned, the receiving equipment at Um-Hashiba was, for the first time, picking up real-time communications at the highest level of the Egyptian military. With the War of Attrition showing every sign of getting even fiercer, it was a criticial intelligence advantage. When we landed, not only Digli, but Ahrale Yariv were there to meet us. Digli, smiling broadly, handed me a small cloth insignia. “You've earned it,” he said, adding that Bar-Lev himself had endorsed my promotion from captain to major. * * * With the Cairo-Suez mission, and a series of other operations I helped run nearer to the canal, there now seemed every possibility that | would be chosen to succeed Digli as commander when his term expired. But that was still more than a year away, in the spring of 1971. With his agreement, I decided to use the time to do what Eli Zeira had advised me before I made my decision to return: to get experience in the regular army. The War of Attrition had created a demand for qualified officers who could command tank units, since they were playing a key role against the Egyptians along the canal. Along with about a dozen other middle-ranking officers who had volunteered to move into the armored corps, I embarked on a course covering every facet of tank warfare: how each system on an individual tank worked, how to pilot one, load in the shells, and then calibrate its main gun, aim and fire. We studied communications protocols, even tank maintenance. We were taught how