carrying the heavy, lonely burden of commanding the very fighters who he was leading when he fell. “We have seen him on the battlefield, engaging the enemy, heading into a test of fire with courage and wisdom and his indomitable spirit — the very essence of the spirit that made possible the operation in which he would lose his life.” Because, make no mistake, I said: beyond the weapons used, the people who participated, the training and exercises before the fleet of Hercules had taken off; beyond the fine balance required in the planning, execution, and decision-making; it was “this spirit, this essence, that was tested at Entebbe.” When I saw Yoni’s family afterwards, though they thanked me for my remarks, I could see that they were still bleeding inside. I am sure that affected they way they related to Bruria. Even before Yoni met her, he had told me how hard his parents were finding his separation from Tutti. Bruria attended the funeral and the sh/oshim. But she didn’t sit with the family. I think that with the shock of his death, mixed with the pride they felt at his emergence as a national hero, they found it difficult to include her, a woman they hardly knew, in their mourning. A few weeks later, I go a call from the Netanyahu family’s lawyer, Erwin Shimron. It was an odd, rambling conversation. He seemed to insinuate that, as her and Yoni’s neighbor and friend, I was encouraging the unwelcome idea that Bruria was part of the immediate circle of the bereaved, that this mere girlfriend was somehow his widow. He wanted me to withdraw whatever mantle I might be providing, and help separate her from Yoni and his legacy. He went so far as to say that one reason he was calling me was because he didn’t want to have to take “legal steps” to make that happen. I saw no point in getting into an argument. I sensed that, while it would take time for the grief felt by those closest to Yoni to begin to heal, the issue would gradually resolve itself. But I saw even less po