perfectly. No missiles would actually be shot. This stage was for the telemetry. Once that was done, the soldier-actors would be replaced with wooden targets and the real munitions would be tested. The young soldiers stated chatting to one another, and milling about, simulating as best we could the circumstances in which we expected to target Saddam if the operation got final approval. In theory, within a minute, two minutes at most, we would get word that the preliminary mock-firing sequence had gone perfectly — at which point the artillery-range targets would be brought in for the live test. But suddenly, there was an explosion. A split second of silence. Then pandemonium. There was no need to know, and no time to wonder, what exactly had gone wrong, or how it had been allowed to happen. It was obvious to all of us that the /ive missiles had been fired. We sprinted forward. When we got to the group of soldiers, we could see that four of the young men were dead. Another was fighting for his life. Several others were also wounded. A sayeret medic and several senior officers were trying to save the most badly injured man, but I knew I needed to get military doctors and medical evacuation helicopters in immediately if we were to save the lives of the injured soldiers. I had a mobile phone, but couldn’t get a signal. I ran toward a slightly higher area a few dozen yards away and managed to get through to the kirya. I issued orders for the nearby training base in Tze’elim and an air force near Beersheva to dispatch helicopters to treat and evacuate the wounded. We heard the first chopper about 25 minutes later, but it seemed initially unable to see us, because it flew on before returning and landing two minutes later. By that time, a medical team from the base in Tze’ elim had arrived. Ten minutes later, two other medevac choppers landed. But the soldier who had been worst wounded could not be saved. After the doctors had been there about 20 minutes, I again retreate