that you came back,” he said. “We’Il need each and every one of you to get the job done.” Then he hugged me again. It was as if, knowing I would soon be heading for the front line, he wondered whether we’d see each other again. I made my way to the office that the chief of staff used in the bunker and asked Dado’s secretary if I could see him. As she was deciding whether to let me in, he emerged. Though obviously aware of the seriousness of the situation, Dado radiated his usual calm and confidence. For the first time, I felt a bit more hopeful. “Ma nishmah, Ehud? he asked, in Israelis’ everyday greeting. “What’s up?” I told him I’d just come from the airport. “I can help in special forces, infantry, armor. Whichever is most needed.” “Leading a tank unit,” he said. “They’ve suffered heavy losses. Go see Tzipori.” Motke Tzipori was in charge of organizing the armored units. He sent me to Julis, the training base between Tel Aviv and Beersheva, where tanks from maintenance units around the country were being brought. Once they were reasonably operational, and as more reservists arrived from abroad, I would lead a makeshift battalion to help reinforce our badly depleted forces in the Sinai. * * * I was just one of dozens of officers, in command of thousands of tireless and courageous troops called on to try to turn the tide. Most were reservists. Many, like me, had rushed home in the knowledge that for the first time since 1948, there was the real risk Israel would be defeated. By the time I got my battle orders — October 14, the ninth day of the war — Israeli forces on the Golan, at enormous cost, had managed to turn back the Syrian attack. In this war, the men from Sayeret Matkal were not bystanders. Most of the unit joined the fightback in the north, where, under Yoni Netanyahu’s command, they took on and defeated a Syrian commando force in the heart of the Golan. Yoni himself risked his life to rescue a wounded officer from another unit behind enemy lines. In