There was another, slightly less noble, reason I wanted to set the record straight with Rabin. Though only gradually did I admit this even to myself, I realized that my experience in a regional command had ticked the one missing box in the CV of our top generals, meaning that I might indeed be a candidate to succeed Moshe Vechetzi as chief of staff. At first, I resisted taking the prospect too seriously. The job of ramatkal not only carried responsibility for overall command of the armed forces. Since our country still faced multiple security threats, the chief of staff was, along with Prime Minister and Defence Minister, among the most important, influential and visible positions in Israeli public life. Yet as the April 1987 date for the changeover drew nearer, it was difficult not to think about it. Not only was I apparently under consideration. To judge from media reports, and officers’ smalltalk, it appeared that Rabin had whittled down the possibilities to two. One was Dan Shomron, and I was the other. Still, it was only when Rabin phoned me early in 1987 that I knew it was true — and that I would not be getting the top job. “Ehud,” he said, “I wanted you to know I’ve decided on Dan to be the next ramatkal. I want you to be his deputy.” I can’t say I was surprised he’d chosen Dan. It wasn’t just that he was more experienced, or even that, since he was older, missing out on the top job this time would probably mean missing out for good. Yitzhak had always valued Dan’s directness and honesty, his courage and record of service. Above all, ’'d long sensed that he felt a special debt to Dan: for Entebbe. At a time when so much could have gone wrong, it was Dan who had taken a firm, confident, successful hold on the operation. Still, I was now 45. For me no less than for Dan, I knew that if I was passed over as chief of staff, there was no guarantee I’d be chosen the next time. “I respect your decision,” I told Rabin. “And I have no doubt Dan will be a good — a ver