Name: ***
Rank: first sergeant
Unit: Nachal
Description: We reached the local council building. All hell had broken loose. Detainees had to be assembled. We’re no recon-unit, after all, we didn’t usually make arrests. They brought the detainees and we had to begin guarding them and take the council building. We brought sand-sacks over there. At the same time, one of the guys from my own company, from my platoon, even, decided to write numbers on the council house doors, for some reason, which really got on my nerves.
Meaning what?
Army positions were created there, so he wrote number on the doors.
With a spray can?
No. A marker. And he drew a moustache on all kinds of pictures there, posters, which really made me angry. I didn’t say anything, no time for that. Later I reported this to my sergeant. That soldier left the battalion anyway. He was assigned to the Shabak’s VIP security unit.
Guys from the Nahal recon-unit began to pick up souvenirs there, too. I remember their platoon commander really yelled at them for this.
What do you mean? What did they pick up?
Oh, you know, this was mind-blowing for them. They were young soldiers, on their second or third bout in the territories. We entered an office full of chairs, pens, computers, the works, full of pictures of Arafat, flags, little banners, so they began to collect some souvenirs, out of some instinct that is very relevant to moral deterioration. And these are good guys.
So their commander caught them in the act?
Yes. He yelled at them. I remember him yelling at them there.




