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  1. #1
    Imperialist Brit Member Orb's Avatar
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    Default Yom Kippur

    Note: This is basically entirely fiction. It is based on the Yom Kippur war of 1973 between Israel and several Arabic states (primarily Syria, Egypt and Iraq). The characters are not based on real people, and the historical accuracy is limited to a very general picture. Any specific details will probably be historically incorrect.

    Yom Kippur

    Esau Goldhirsch smiled sadly at his tiny nephew as his brother ushered him out of the door. David picked up his solemn, grey overcoat and put in on, locking the door behind himself as he left. While many of the Jews in Bet She’an would cycle on this day, the synagogue was just around the corner, so the two brothers could walk. David’s wife picked up her son and they set off together, with bare feet taking them across the cobblestone.

    Hassan ibn Menahem checked his gun again, and for the twelfth time, made sure his parachute was in place. He carefully studied the plan of Mt. Hermon, a noteable Israeli stronghold, with a worried expression. The outside might not have changed much but there was no chance that his president could ever have learned that the armoury was still where it had been when it had been lost six years ago. He rolled up the plans and handed them to the next soldier, he asked his captain, a stocky man named Hasib Mohammed, ‘How did we find all this out.’
    Hasib answered with unveiled sarcasm, ‘Israeli soldiers yearning to escape oppression must have deserted and then informed us. By God,’ he continued with the same tone, ‘this act will astound the world.’

    Esau lowered his head in prayer as his nephew impatiently shuffled around. He reflected on the words of the psalm: ‘O God, the heathen are come into thine inheritance; Thy holy temple they have defiled; They have laid Jerusalem on heaps.’ The words reverberated in his skull: ‘Their blood have they shed like water round about Jerusalem; And there was none to bury them’. His mind turned back sixteen years. The cracks of old gunfire deafened him, and he flinched as if struck. David put a hand on his shoulder and murmured ‘are you alright?’ Esau nodded as the last two verses came to an end ‘… Unto our neighbours sevenfold in their bosom their reproach, wherewith they have reproached thee, O Lord. So we, thy people and sheep of thy pasture, will give thee thanks forever; We will show forth thy praise for generations.

    Hassan covered his ears as the Syrian artillery fired, his squad of soldiers clustered together inside the helicopter, wishing each other luck and praying together for victory. He looked down to see the blossoming fires in Israeli positions. Syrian aircraft flew past, glinting in the sunlight; tanks rolled forwards. These innumerable iron machines of Assyria and Babylon, the power of Heliopolis and Damascus, of Kadesh and Chalep, had come to drive the Jews back into the Western Sea. The pilot, a Russian, shouted ‘Get ready!’ Hassan, as the only man who understood Russian, translated it. The Syrian paratroopers checked their Kalashnikovs for the last time, and raised their eyes to heaven.

    The thundering of a fist on the synagogue door ceased, and the officer entered. He glanced meekly at the rabbi for a moment and then at the congregation. Esau turned round as the lieutenant announced, ‘The reserves are being called up to ensure the national security of the State of Israel.’ The rabbi looked at him incredulously for a moment, before speaking, ‘On Yom Kippur? On a sacred holiday?’
    The officer nodded, ‘There are not nearly enough men on the borders, and the government has uncovered information that the Syrians plan to attack very soon. A decision has been made to mobilise everyone.’
    ‘I hope,’ the rabbi replied, ‘that this won’t be like the last time the Syrians planned to attack very soon?’
    The lieutenant lowered his head, silently pleading for cooperation. The Rabbi inclined his head slightly, and the officer smiled gratefully. David nudged Esau, ‘lucky we didn’t enlist. The Syrians are too terrified to really attack. Another bluff and another wasted holiday.’
    Esau wasn’t listening. He stood up. ‘Esau,’ hissed David. Esau began walking to the door.


    'My intelligence is not just insulted, it's looking for revenge with a gun and no mercy. ' - Frogbeastegg

    SERA NIMIS VITA EST CRASTINA VIVE HODIE

    The life of tomorrow is too late - live today!

  2. #2
    Arrogant Ashigaru Moderator Ludens's Avatar
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    Lightbulb Re: Yom Kippur

    Interesting. I like the opposing perspectives. Is this going to be continued?
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  3. #3
    One of the Undutchables Member The Stranger's Avatar
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    Default Re: Yom Kippur

    It is very good, the transition is good, doesnt annoys a bit. continou please

    We do not sow.

  4. #4
    Retired Member matteus the inbred's Avatar
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    Default Re: Yom Kippur

    Just got around to this, very good...the opposing perspective is interesting, and keeps me paying attention. Perhaps the quick 'cuts' will work even better when the action kicks off, I look forward to finding out!
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  5. #5
    Arrogant Ashigaru Moderator Ludens's Avatar
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    Lightbulb Re: Yom Kippur

    Has this story been abandoned? It would be a pity, because it started so well.
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  6. #6
    Imperialist Brit Member Orb's Avatar
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    Default Re: Yom Kippur

    Hassan’s feet hit the roof of the Israeli stronghold, followed shortly by the rest of him. He struggled for a moment, desperately cutting the strings of his parachute and going into a crouch. Some idiot had gotten in his way as he left the aircraft, so he didn’t have a clue as to what was happening. How many of the Israelis were there? Were they ready? He heard the sound of gunfire. Hassan scanned the rooftop. There were three dead Israelis and one dead Syrian. Hasib ordered them to press on. Hassan ran forwards, carefully stepping over a bleeding and broken corpse. The other Syrians were ahead of him, already down the ladder into the complex, with their Russian AK-47s pointed forwards. A single Israeli guard was in the hallway. Hassan heard the burst of gunfire and quickly climbed down the rungs of the ladder. The unfortunate guard was dead. He had two holes in his head, and his blood was staining the floor. Hassan stepped past him, closed his eyes, and kept running.

    Esau got into the APC, while he and several of the soldiers were uneasy about using the vehicle on Yom Kippur, they didn’t argue. The officer got on his motorcycle and drove off, no doubt to call some other congregation to arms. The driver introduced himself as Moishe before politely asking ‘Where do you all live? You just need to get your uniforms and then we’ll be off.’
    Esau opened the door as he replied ‘Just around the corner.’ He sprinted to his house, unlocked the door and ran upstairs. Esau stood still for a moment, pondering about his actions, then opened the wardrobe to take out his late grandfather’s uniform. No doubt it had changed in the last few years – but that couldn’t be helped.

    Hassan followed another pair of soldiers to the point labelled ‘armoury’ on the plans. The blaring of the alarm didn’t worry him at all, there were too few Israelis to pose a threat, if he was any judge. Their footsteps echoed along the hallways. As they passed each door, one of the soldiers would check inside. The first was empty, so was the second, and the third, and the fourth. All were plain bunkrooms, any men who’d been in there had sensibly cleared off. One of the soldiers casually pushed the fifth door open. A bullet tore into the Syrian’s thigh, a sound like thunder issued forth from the room. The injured Arab screamed as the second shot went over his head. Two more shots struck the walls. Hassan stepped forwards and swung his body and gun together into the room. He fired. God alone knows how many times. The storm of led launched the Jew backwards. The Jew convulsed and then dropped. Blood flowed the black holes in his head, torso and legs. The wounded Syrian was gazing in horror and disbelief at the red puddle underneath him. Hassan turned away in disgust, he was a veteran of two wars and having fought in the war of 1967 and had also “suppressed” Palestinians when they had tried to cause havoc in Homs a few years back wasn’t helping his conscience with this fighting. He ordered the other stunned soldier to tend to the wounded one. He walked on, alone in a steel maze.

    Esau got into the APC again ‘Welcome back, sir.’ Said one of the soldiers.
    ‘Sir?’ Esau looked at his sleeve. ‘I must have picked up my grandad’s uniform. Still, no time to waste.’
    ‘Your grandad’s? Military family?’
    ‘Not exactly, I was born in Port Said, in Egypt,’ He explained, ‘We’d lived there as a family for two hundred years. My granddad said it was a good life until the British left. He was a potter. It started turning dangerous as that lunatic “Grand Mufti of Jerusalem” sided with the Nazis. Still, we survived. In ’57, after the Suez War, we were “visited” by three Palestinians. They shot my parents dead. One of them put down his AK for a moment to loot the house. My granddad came in very quietly, picked up the gun and shot him. The other two came in to see what was happening. He shot both of them, too.’
    The next soldier got out to find his uniform.
    Esau continued, ‘My grandparents immediately moved, with us – my brother and me – to Israel. My granddad joined the IDF. Both of my grandparents died last year.
    The soldier let the subject drop and lent Esau a needle to remove the stripes.

    ----------------

    Damn, I forgot about it. I've typed up more, but I'm going to reveal it in sections rather than all at once.


    'My intelligence is not just insulted, it's looking for revenge with a gun and no mercy. ' - Frogbeastegg

    SERA NIMIS VITA EST CRASTINA VIVE HODIE

    The life of tomorrow is too late - live today!

  7. #7
    Mafia Hunter Member Kommodus's Avatar
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    Default Re: Yom Kippur

    I like this story. Please continue!
    If you define cowardice as running away at the first sign of danger, screaming and tripping and begging for mercy, then yes, Mr. Brave man, I guess I'm a coward. -Jack Handey

  8. #8
    Imperialist Brit Member Orb's Avatar
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    Default Re: Yom Kippur

    Hassan slowly pushed the door open. He walked into the empty cantina. He checked the kitchens quickly and then moved on into the corridor. He shuffled along, listening to the muffled gunfire from elsewhere in the complex. There were voices behind the door into the place labelled “armoury” on his printed map. Definitely Hebrew, but Hassan couldn’t make it out. Three voices? Or four? And maybe some not speaking? Soldiers or just cooks and cleaners? He closed his eyes, offering a silent prayer before re-opening them. He shouted in Russian, ordering the air to “stand back”, then, in thick accented Hebrew, ‘Surrender now, and you will not be harmed.’ Perhaps they would think a Russian more merciful than an Arab. Perhaps.

    He tried to listen to the discussion but the door and the speed of the conversations made that difficult. Finally there came an answer: ‘We surrender’. Hassan grimaced, his heart racing, ‘put down your weapons. Any man in there holding a weapon will be shot without further warning.’ He heard the clattering. A trick? He stepped closer to the door and flung it open. He stepped in, twisting his head left and right. Six Israelis, all soldiers, all disarmed. He spoke very deliberately in Hebrew, ‘Please do not pick up your guns. Gather together in the centre of the room.’ They would probably not have obeyed him if they weren’t so stunned. They looked at each other in shock and began moving to the centre of the room.

    Esau got out of the vehicle, following the driver into the camp. Another group pulled in on a truck. It seemed like Moishe had been working already that day, so their group had a ‘real vehicle’. A secretary scuttled to and fro, organising the men by unit. Esau smoothly lied, saying that he had been part of one of the Sinai divisions and that he’d come back home for the holiday. The secretary assigned him to tag along with an under-strength group of soldiers. Esau nodded and got into the APC. A man with a captain’s badge welcomed him, ‘Levi Berengeur’, he extended a hand and Esau shook it, ‘Esau Goldhirsch.’
    Levi grinned, ‘Not seen a real war before?’ Esau shook his head, ‘Don’t worry, I was there in sixty-seven. Six days. The air force just wiped them off the face of the earth. They don’t stand a chance.’ Esau smiled thankfully and kept quiet. ‘So,’ Levi began, ‘where have you fought?’
    ‘Counter-insurgency in the Sinai.’
    ‘Easy?’
    ‘Anything but. Their Fedayeen, “Freedom fighters” won’t stop. They are impossible to please. They hate all of us when the only people responsible for their condition are their ‘good friends’ the other Arab countries.’
    ‘You just don’t understand them. They got hit too had in the first place. The other Arab countries haven’t done anything to help, but they didn’t kick them out of their homeland.’
    ‘And why did they kill my parents? Egyptian Jews, who’d lived there since birth, who’d never harmed a soul in their lives.’
    ‘They aren’t all like that. They’ve been misled.’
    ‘Perhaps.’
    Esau looked around, and was quiet again.

    Hassan looked around for the first time in what felt like half an hour. It was probably much less. The two men he’d left behind walked forwards, the uninjured one supporting his comrade. ‘How on earth did you capture so many?’
    ‘I speak Hebrew and Russian. Guile over strength.’
    ‘Do you want us to watch them?’
    ‘Thanks. I’ve been here too long.’ The sweat dripping from his clothes confirmed him. The two other Syrians sat down, backed against the walls, AKs pointed at the prisoners. Hassan began talking to one of the Israelis. Well, his group had nothing else to do.
    ‘Why are there so few of you today?’ he asked. The Jew didn’t answer. ‘And why are some of you barefoot?’
    Another of the captives spoke grudgingly, ‘It’s Yom Kippur, mobilisation was only announced a few hours ago.’
    Hassan didn’t let his surprise or ignorance show. ‘Of course. You won’t be ready for weeks.’
    The captive stared straight at him, ‘Israel is strong. We’ll have won within a fortnight.’
    A buzz came from the radio. Hassan didn’t catch it. One of the soldiers clapped the other on the back. ‘What’s happened.’
    The soldier ignored his question and replied, ‘Our target is taken, Mount Hermon has been secured.’


    'My intelligence is not just insulted, it's looking for revenge with a gun and no mercy. ' - Frogbeastegg

    SERA NIMIS VITA EST CRASTINA VIVE HODIE

    The life of tomorrow is too late - live today!

  9. #9
    Still warlusting... Member Warluster's Avatar
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    Default Re: Yom Kippur

    Very good story, I like the way you portray it, and its nice for something new.

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